WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

222. Chapter 222

Inevitable

MeadowWard

Summary:

It wasn't like breathing or trembling or fire. It was none of the things other people had described to her, and it was somehow more than what she'd been told to expect. For her, it was like a curtain of silence had been drawn around the two of them. The hush was so heavy she felt like she could part it with her hand as her eyes locked with His.
He shot to his feet almost as quickly as she did, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should've heard the sound of his chair clattering to the floor, but she heard nothing. Just that thick silence, as heavy as a cloud that hung over them punctured only by the melody of her timer and the repeated beep of his.
The silence faded when Officer Bradford -her training officer and, apparently, her soulmate- uttered a single word that everyone in the roll call heard, but Lucy loudest of all.
"Shit." TiMER soulmate AU for Chenford/Tucy

Chapter 1: Whomever

Notes:

"Hello
I love you
Won't you tell me your name?"
- "Hello, I Love You", The Doors

Chapter Text

She wished it were just jitters. At leastjittersshe could explain away. Chalk it up to nerves about starting her rookie year tomorrow, pop a cherry-flavored melatonin, and get some much needed sleep before beginning.. well, before beginning. But it wasn't just a simple case of the jitters, and it was so much more than nerves.

Lucy blinked once, her eyes briefly losing focus on the thin clear strip implanted into her left wrist. She'd had it since childhood, got it installed as a present on her fourteenth birthday. She had checked the dial faithfully before bed, upon waking, and throughout the day without fail over the past fourteen years. Now at 28, she'd lived half of her life with it on her wrist. Her timer, counting down the years, months, days, and hours until she met her soulmate, or so the brochure guaranteed. In the natural, it was basically just a clock. In the abstract, it represented Him. Her Whomever, wherever he was, and the promise that someday in the far -and then near, and then approaching so rapidly her excitement became anxiety- future, she would meet him.

It was 11:58 pm. She was two minutes away from zeroing out. The timer would chime at midnight and again when she first saw her soulmate.
Of all the other rookies in her class at the police academy, most had timers, but many had met their soulmates by now. Out of the three that were headed to Mid-Wilshire for their rookie training (herself included), only one other had reached zero. Jackson was one of the few people her age who didn't have a timer; he was so certain of his future as a cop that he declined getting one when he reached the earliest installation age, thinking it would be easier to go undercover without a timer. He was probably right. Nolan was older and still sported one of the earlier models of the timer on his left wrist, though it had gone off years ago and now emitted a faint green glow from behind a row of zeros. He told her his hadn't chimed, it beeped, and he about shit himself when it went off because the sound was so unexpected. He'd met his match in college. A woman named Grace, he said, but it didn't work out at the time. There was more to the story, but Lucy had never pressed him for more details. His expression when saying his soulmate's name - a combination of pensive, wistful, and grieved- told her everything she needed to know.

One minute left.

She wondered what would happen when she saw him. How it would feel. Lucy couldn't get straight answers from anyone she asked… although to be fair, her pool to sample from was pitifully small; there were only so many people she felt comfortable asking as she was a little worried about being teased for even wondering. Nolan said it felt like his first breath. Like he'd been held under water his whole life until his eyes landed on Grace. Her mother had said she shivered for days when she first saw Lucy's father, and for his part her father had described a feeling like flames on the side of his head (although it's possible he was pulling her leg with that answer, because wasn't that a quote from "Clue"? ). She hoped her own reaction would be more muted. Imagining anything too dramatic might make her first day on the job… that much more awkward, if not totally unbearable.

Zero.

The counter chimed, a pretty ascending melody only five notes long, and turned green.

Tomorrow- today, now- she'd know.

She hadn't counted on her car breaking down on her way to her first ever roll call.

It was fine. Really. Nothing she couldn't handle. Her car had broken down before, and she always managed to maneuver her to tried not to sweat it, tried to stay positive. This was going to be a great day for more than one reason. This wasn't going to get her down. Not if she had anything to say about it.

"Hey Mama. That's a nice ride."

With no small amount of reluctance (and a whispered "are you serious"), Lucy looked up. Thank God her timer stayed quiet, not even hinting at a chime. He was decidedly Not Whomever. She wasn't above admitting relief that her timer hadn't gone off for… this guy.

"Yea. Thanks."

He took a step closer, lifting his shirt to reveal a gun tucked behind his belt. "Think I'm gonna have to take it off your hands."

Seriously? Disbelief made her laugh. "This car? The car that broke down two blocks ago?"

"Could take you for a spin, too."

Lucy didn't consider it unprofessional to relish revealing herself as a cop just before disarming and cuffing- what was it he called himself when she asked? Oh yeah.Blaze. Marching him into the booking area before hitting the locker room, she felt pretty damn proud of herself, and the feeling lasted one whole minute before giving way to nerves again, followed soon by the addition of dread as a new revelation dawned on her. For all her planning and daydreaming, she hadn't considered the possibility that her soulmate could be a criminal. What if she met Whomever while pulling him over for a DUI, or a drug bust, or worse?

No, she said to herself as she rolled her hair into a low bun. No, there was no way her soulmate would do any of those things. She refused to think otherwise, not until (and frankly,unless) she absolutely had to. As it was, she did think of Nolan, of his soulmate, and what he might have meant by "didn't work out". She supposed there could be worse things than being matched to a criminal, although she would still hold out hope for someone with no record. The nerves were full-on butterflies now. She hoped no one noticed. If she couldn't quite make herself smile at Nolan and Jackson as they took their seats at the front of the room for roll call, she'd blame it on her car breaking down and hope that would be enough for them. She doubted anyone but those two would be paying enough attention to notice something was off with her.

There was a low level of chatter among the officers that hushed as soon as the sergeant walked in. Sergeant Grey was a distinguished looking man who addressed his team in a voice that, while stern, Lucy found comforting. She appreciated a no-nonsense approach to the job, and Grey didn't strike her as either a hard-ass or soft. He first made the rookies stand at attention, admonishing them to prove themselves, follow protocol, and honor tradition. All things she'd heard before countless time at the academy, but her chest swelled with pride as he spoke to them. After agreeing to this order he allowed them to return to their seats, at which point he began the task of assigning the three to their officers.

"The training officer match game. Our contestants are legacy Jackson West, who broke all his dad's records at the academy. Lucy Chen," she felt a blush spring to her cheeks hearing her name, " a hotshot who made her first arrest this morning before clocking in, and John Nolan, a rookie who has the unique distinction of being born before disco died." The amount of laughter this dig received almost made Lucy feel bad for Nolan.

"And the winners are: Officer Lopez, you get our legacy. Officer Bishop, disco fever. Leaving Officer Bradford to ride with our hotshot."

She should've waited to turn until dismissal. It was the polite thing to do, to wait to look at her training officer until Sergeant Grey called an end to the meeting. He clearly had a small speech prepared, no doubt with little wisdoms peppered throughout, imploring the rookies and the rest of his team to do good and be smart. Lucy heard none of these remarks, though, because she peeked.

She peeked, and her eyes immediately landed on Whomever.

It wasn't like breathing or trembling or fire. It was none of the things other people had described to her, and it was somehow more than what she'd been told to expect. For her, it was like a curtain of silence had been drawn around the two of them. The hush was so heavy she felt like she could part it with her hand as her eyes locked with His.

Blue. His eyes were blue, and if someone had asked her then, she might have said something stupid. Something like blue was her favorite color, even though until this morning (or hell, before thissecond) it was olive green. Despite her seat being several feet away, she could see his face in perfect clarity, bright eyes set into tanned skin, fine lines forming next to them and in creases around his mouth. She wondered how many of those lines were from laughing, from frowning, from worry. The desire to run the tips of her fingers down each one came on in a rush so strong she jumped to her feet before suppressing it. She couldn't touch him, no matter how she suddenly ached to. He was… well, he was handsome, there was simply no other way to put it. His disinterested expression, his slouch, every bit of his stoicism all faded when her eyes landed on his face, and she knew then that he was seeing her, too. Seeing her, and feeling this. He shot to his feet almost as quickly as she did, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she should've heard the sound of his chair clattering to the floor, but she heard nothing. Just that thick silence, as heavy as a cloud that hung over them punctured only by the melody of her timer and the repeated beep of his.

It was only seconds. It had to have only been seconds.

It just felt like more.

The silence faded when Officer Bradford -her training officer and, apparently, her soulmate- uttered a single word that everyone in the roll call heard, but Lucy loudest of all.

"Shit."

Chapter 2: Nice to Meet You, Now Go Away

Notes:

"There's walls around the walls around my heart
Oh I'm too scared to finish what you start
I can hear you whisper, let me in
While my heart's screaming, don't go there again"
- "This Isn't Gonna End Well", John Paul White

Chapter Text

Roll call ended pretty quickly after her timer went off, and for that, Lucy was grateful. It wasn't so much that chaos had broken out over a TO and his rookie being matched. The reaction was relatively controlled, mostly chuckles hidden behind hands, but Lucy was keenly aware of the scrutiny of her superiors; no longer just Tim, everyone was now looking at her. A few of the more seasoned officers were openly smirking. Lopez and Bishop- the other TOs- looked surprised… but Lopez, in spite of her shock, almost appeared pleased. She crossed her arms over her chest as she leaned back in her chair and nodded once in Lucy's direction, then swatted playfully at Tim's arm.

That little smack was enough to snap Tim out of… whatever this was that came over the both of them. A daze, Lucy decided, was the most accurate word for it. He was at her side in a flash, taking her by the arm before rushing her out of the room. A few rogue whoops and wolf whistles did make it to her ears before they were out, followed soon after by Sergeant Grey chiding the remaining officers to settle down.

Tim's hand on her elbow, even through the dark wool fabric of her uniform, felt like it could burn clear through to her skin. A white hot heat warmed her to the bone where he held her, but it wasn't painful. Were these the flames her dad had mentioned? It wasn't as unbearable as he made it sound. Actually, it was kind of nice. The kind of touch she could see herself seeking on breezy summer evenings, on warm spring mornings. She could see herself reaching blindly for his hand between cotton blankets at night.

Not that she was already thinking of going to bed with him. No, no, absolutely not. It was less a train of thought and more a… she didn't want to say premonition, as it felt like a glimpse. Not so much a daydream as looking through a window. A peek into a future that now seemed more possible than ever before.

"Thanks for getting me out of there," Lucy said to Tim as he shut the door to the office behind them.

He scoffed. "I didn't do it for you, Boot. I did it because Grey said so."

Oh. "I must have missed him saying that."

"Yea, must have." He walked to the other side of the room, leaving space between them, and looked out toward the bullpen. The rest of the officers were dispersing. John and Jackson gave small waves as they walked by, making Tim look back at her. Their eyes locked again and once more her breath came to a stuttering halt. He gazed for only a moment or two before thinking better of it, breaking away with a shake of his head. She wanted to say something, but words seemed useless at the moment. None of the things she had planned to say to her soulmate made it to her lips, stalling in her throat before she could utter a single one. Not that any of them would have fit now, anyway. Things like "it's you" or "I've been waiting for this moment" seemed trite now with him in front of her. Trite, plain, and honestly pretty lacking, and even though they'd just met she got the distinct impression that he wouldn't appreciate her sentiments much less return them. In fact, he seemed annoyed by the whole ordeal instead of excited, which dampened her own thrill as effectively as a gallon of water being poured on a campfire. It was lucky that Grey came in not long after, saving them both from this length of awkwardness.

Although most of his expression was inscrutable, Sergeant Grey's eyes betrayed his amusement at the turn of events. In another setting, he might have laughed. As it was, he held it together, waiting to address either of them until he shut the door. Lucy stood at silent attention as he spoke to them.

"Well," he began at last, "on the one hand, Mazel Tov." Turning, he walked toward his desk, letting the folder with today's meeting notes drop with a slap. "On the other, not sure what the hell to do with either of you now. No real protocol on this sort of thing, although I suppose we can invoke certain 'fraternization among officers' standards if we really need to."

"Sir? If I may?" Officer Bradford interrupted before the sergeant could get much farther ahead of them with his decision.

"… You may."

"I can promise that the fact our timers say we're a match will have no impact whatsoever on my ability to train Officer Chen. No offense," Tim glanced at her quickly, avoiding eye contact, "I'm sure you're a nice girl," then he looked back at Sergeant Grey, "but I don't believe in soulmates."

Didn't believe in soulmates?Huh? What?"But… you have a timer," she said to Tim.

He continued to face forward as he answered her. "And you have your ears pierced. So we both know a little something about body modification." To the sergeant he said, "Sir, I can guarantee-"

"Wait a second." She held her hand up just a few inches in front of her as she turned towards Tim. "I'm a grown woman, okay? Not a girl, so I'd appreciate it if you kept that in mind when you're talking to me or about me. Secondly, if you didn't believe in soulmates, why did you get a soulmate timer? A lot of effort for something you don't think is real." Of all the things she'd anticipated happening, she never imagined her timer going off would end with her speaking so very out of turn on her first day… and to her training officer, in front of the sergeant no less, but once she got going Lucy couldn't stop.

Sure, it was not the time or place for this conversation, and technically she was mouthing off to a superior, but she'd hope she'd receive a small measure of grace for having her world rocked by two pretty big revelations in less than ten minutes.

Also, she really hated being called girl. What in the patronizing fuck wasthat?

"I don't have to explain my decisions to anyone,leastof all you, Boot."

His complete lack of a real answer did not put her off pushing farther, though she did her best to keep her tone light. If he was going to be dismissive, she was determined to sound unbothered. "Can I ask what your plan was, sir? Were you just going to let your timer zero out, have a laugh at your match's expense, then go about your day like it was nothing?"

That remark made Tim turn to face her fully, squaring up to her with a scowl. When he spoke, it was low and soft, but then again he didn't strike her as the type that needed to let his voice boom in order to convey his anger. "I am not having this conversation with you right now." Without saying more, he made it clear that she was on shaky ground.

They stared each other down, neither retreating, neither breaking. Lucy was tempted to look away a few times, but she guessed the second she did he'd hold that against her, too. Gone was the wonder of earlier moments, the curiosity, the interest. They were still feeling each other out and probably would be doing so for a few more days at least, but it was clear they were nearing the end of first impressions being formed. The initial impression of who Tim Bradford was- who her soulmate was- began to solidify in her mind.

He's kind of a dick.

"Well, here's how I see it," Sergeant Grey said, and they both looked toward him, the stalemate between them passing if only for the moment. The sergeant looked at Lucy as he leveled with her. "Officer Bradford is one hell of a TO, and if he says this won't be an obstacle, I'm inclined to trust him. Unlessyouthink this is going to be a problem." Folding his arms over his chest, Grey asked, "Is this going to be a problem, Chen?"

From the corner of her field of vision she saw Tim watching her, waiting for her to respond. Lucy sensed he was expecting her to bail out and demand another training officer. Swap with Nolan, perhaps. It would be a strike against her on her first day (if she somehow managed to make it out of this little side-bar totally unscathed, that was). Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her failing right out of the gate. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. "No, sir. It won't be a problem."

"Perfect. Operate as planned for the next few days. I'll speak with the captain and see what she thinks. If she decides it necessary, we'll discuss changing up the assignments." And then Grey dismissed them.

It took a lot of restraint not to run from the office, but Lucy refrained and followed Tim out, mimicking his pace as she took up behind him by just a few feet. He walked quickly. For every one of his strides, Lucy had to take three.

"Keep up, Boot," he called over his shoulder without looking.

Thanks to their impromptu meeting with Grey, they got a little later start on the streets than the other rookies, something that managed to sour Tim's mood even more. He quickly walked her through the protocols for getting the war bags, setting up the shop, and using her body cam. Everything he said to her was framed as an order, all delivered in an intense rapid-fire manner. She was expected to follow instructions within seconds of their delivery, but then he also snapped at her to take notes, and she could hardly do both well at the same time no matter his expectations.

He played at small talk to catch her off-guard before slamming on the breaks and pretending to be shot. Her first test, followed soon after by a test concerning Spanish-speaking civilians. She succeeded in catching and restraining a middle-aged dad having a nervous breakdown, but it didn't undo the failures from before, and Tim was only too happy to make sure she didn't forget it.

Then he made her buy him lunch.

Lucy was exhausted by the time they took their break. She wondered how much trouble she'd get in if she laid her head down at the table for a power nap.

"I think someone could use a hug," Jackson said as he and Nolan joined her in line at one of the food trucks.

"Don't touch me." She didn't typically snap at Jackson or John, so they were both taken aback.

"Whoa. What's wrong?" Nolan asked.

Telling them everything that had gone poorly would take up the whole lunch hour, so "This is not how I wanted this day to go," is what she settled on.

Jackson said to Nolan in a conspiratorial whisper, "I can't tell if this is work trouble or boy trouble."

"In her case, it's probably both." They looked at her, judging her reaction before deciding whether it was okay to laugh. Seeing that she was not entertained by their jokes, they smartly avoided even a little chuckle at her expense.

Lucy faced no fewer than three more Tim tests during the second half of the afternoon. She didn't fare better with those, earning herself more disappointed sighs and head-shaking from Tim. She was trying, but attempts alone counted for nothing with him. He would have perfection from her. If her work was not impeccable, he regarded it as worthless.

"Hit the showers, Boot," He ordered gruffly when they returned to the precinct at the end of their shift. "We'll do it all again tomorrow, and you better hope to God you do better."

Wonderful.

She cleaned herself up, thankful to wash off the grime of the day, but no amount of hot water could rinse out how crummy she felt. When she changed back into her civilian clothes , Lucy looked down at her jeans and top with disdain. She'd agonized over this outfit to start the day, wanting to look her very best. Stupidly,stupidlythinking that it would matter what she looked like when she saw Whomever, or that they'd go out for drinks or something after meeting one another. To think she'd dressed this morning with her soulmate in mind. It seemed an awful waste.

Actually… that sort of summed up her whole day. Anawful waste. Fourteen years of anticipating meeting her soulmate, only to find out he didn't believe in the concept at all. Half of her life waiting for this day and he couldn't show less interest in her as a human, but did seem to take great joy in making her feel small and inadequate on the job. She'd been so sure of herself walking in today. Had it only been a few hours since she marched a would-be carjacker through the doors? Less than a day since her timer hit zero? All the hope she'd felt this morning had vanished.

A waste, a waste. What an awful waste.

Her dark mood made her slow to finish changing, so she was one of the last ones from her shift out of the locker room. She was in no rush to get home, having nothing to look forward to as she walked out of the locker room with her head lowered.

To her surprise, Jackson and Nolan had waited for her. Before she could say a word, Nolan spoke.

"It's been a tough day. We could all probably use a drink. You coming?"

She looked at the faces of her friends, her heart swelling with gratitude, and said yes at once.

The combination of alcohol and karaoke managed to improve Lucy's outlook at least a little, and what the liquor didn't alleviate, Jackson and Nolan both did their best to fix. She really was so lucky to have these guys on her side. They didn't ask many questions about her day, either on the job or about her personal drama, keeping the focus on the present as much as possible. There was only one question, really, and it came from Nolan.

"What did he say about being your soulmate?"

Lucy paused, a joyless smile ghosting over her lips. She took a long pull of her beer before answering. "Oh you know… that he doesn't believe in them."

Both men winced at her answer. Yeah. That's how she felt, too. It stung that morning when Tim said it, and it still smarted now. It probably would for a while, but for now she could channel the angst into half-drunk performances of "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" and "Natural Woman".

The next morning, she walked into the precinct convinced day two would be better. Partially because she was certain it really couldn't be worse.

She should have learned by now not to bait the universe with sentences like "couldn't be worse". It was clear the universe took such statements as a challenge.

It began with Tim saying he'd decided on a punishment for some infraction she'd already forgotten. The punishment? Arresting a repeat offender named "Ghost Head", who fought back viciously when she tried to restrain him. She tweaked her right shoulder trying to take him down. It took her a few minutes to get him cuffed, and it was luck that she managed to overcome him. She wondered if Tim would've stepped in if it looked like the fight was going in Ghost Head's favor and didn't like that she couldn't say for certain that he would have.

Well, if that was the punishment, she was glad to have it behind her and prayed no more was coming down the pike today.

They were making to leave when a woman ran out of the convenience store. She was about Lucy's height but severely underweight, so thin it looked painful. Her long blonde hair was lank and oily, her face pale. The skin around her eyes was sunken and dark, making her blue irises look extra wide and wild. Lucy pinned her as a drug user almost immediately, though whether she or not she was currently high she couldn't tell. She wasn't close enough to make that kind of assessment.

Lucy was mindful to keep one hand on Ghost Head. With the other, she palmed the grip of her taser as the woman approached Tim and demanded they release the dealer.

Tim's voice was gentle when he spoke; gentle and filled with emotion. He knew the woman, Lucy guessed. "Isabel? It's me. It's Tim." He reached toward her, trying to take her arm, but the woman -Isabel- shrugged out of his grasp.

"Get off of me," Isabel yelled. Tim's hands instantly went up in surrender, trying and failing not to upset her more. He continued to speak to her in that soft, easy tone, trying to coax Isabel to do something Lucy couldn't quite hear. More was said, culminating in some demand that ended in Tim reaching into his pocket and handing Isabel cash before she ran away.

When Tim turned around to look at Lucy, his eyes were red and shining. It made her freeze. He was… crying? She didn't know what to do, what to say, but it ended up not mattering. Before she could speak, Tim ordered Lucy to release the drug dealer. An arrest she'd literally fought to make, and he was discarding it. She didn't really have a choice but to listen, un-cuffing Ghost Head before getting in the car.

"What the hell just happened?"

"That was my wife."

She was asking about Ghost Head, not Isabel, butwow.Okay. There weren't many things Tim could have said that would have shocked her more. He could've called her the queen of England and Lucy would've felt less surprised. His wife? The same man who made her timer zero out and then said "I don't believe in soulmates" was married?

Lucy wanted to groan into her hands. Could this get any more complicated?

She had a dozen or more questions, none of which he'd answer, she knew. But she felt him sharing such a revelation required a response, so she said, "I won't tell anyone." And she meant it. She wouldn't tell anyone that they saw Isabel, or that she was using.

And she certainly wouldn't tell anyone that they'd let a drug dealer go, just because Isabel had asked Tim to.

Lucy had meant it as an olive branch, a sign to him that he could confide in her and trust that she would have his back. He didn't seem to take it that way.

"You're damn right you won't," he bit out just as Officer Bishop called for backup. Tim cleared his throat and responded to the call, confirming them as backup, and then they were on their way.

She watched Tim as he drove. Within seconds of answering the call his expression was once again schooled into a mask of stoicism. It was like the exchange at the store hadn't happened, like his eyes hadn't been glassy with tears just two minutes before. It scared her how quickly he could turn it on and off.

He gripped the steering wheel with his left hand; with his right, he held the walkie. He wore a thick black watch on his left forearm. The band had slipped down, revealing his zeroed out timer with its faint green glow. His was an older model, more like Nolan's than her own; thicker, wider, but with a flatter face. She didn't hide her timer behind a watch like he did. Then again, she hadn't lived with it as long. She wondered if he was ashamed of it. If that was the case, why didn't he get it removed? He had been married, and judging by the model had the timer long before he and Isabel were together. No one would have blamed him for getting the timer taken out, and if only he had…

"You're staring," he said, interrupting her racing thoughts. Lucy quickly looked away.

"Sorry."

"…Got something to say, Boot?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

"You sure about that?"

"I just… I just didn't know you were married."

His hand tightened around the walkie. "Didn't think it was your business."

"It's not."

"But you feel entitled to know because… why exactly? Because of the timers? Is that it?"

"No, sir. I don't feel entitled to anything." And, to an extent, that was true. She didn't feel like she deserved to know everything about her soulmate. Not all at once, at least; but fourteen years of dreaming was not easily undone, and she ventured to say as much. "I just thought things would be different than they are. Once my timer went off, I mean. I had wanted that for most of my life."Wanted youwas the unspoken implication there. She figured Tim would miss it.

He didn't. His expression actually softened, lips parting ever so slightly as he inhaled a deep breath. The mask slipped just a little. "I thought things would be different, too," he said quietly, and it was so full of feeling that Lucy believed him. It only lasted a second, and then Tim cleared his throat. Once again, the switch had been flipped; he was back in TO mode. "Focus up, Boot. Need you sharp for this call." Then to her astonishment, he added, "But we will talk about this later. I promise."

There was a moment during the call where Lucy worried "later" wouldn't come.

It was a shootout. She was terrified and didn't have the time or the headspace to feel it. Didn't have time, because within seconds of the criminals opening fire Tim had taken a bullet to his torso. She saw the blood spatter among the crushed glass of the driver side window. His moans of pain were etched into her brain, a memory she was sure she'd never be able to erase. Her hands shook as she radioed for help, then hooked her arms under Tim's and dragged him out of the line of fire.

She didn't have the headspace to feel afraid because the moment he got hit, her focus was on Tim and Tim alone. Everything else- Selby, her orders, the entire damn department- was a distant second.

"Don't worry about me! Shoot back," had been Tim's order, though it was unconvincing when pierced by his pained groans. Shooting back was easy. Not worrying? Well. That was simply not possible. Especially once she noticed their vehicle had caught fire and she had to drag him to safety once again. Thankfully, Nolan and Bishop were there. Lopez and Jackson arrived not long after. The scene had more than enough cops on it. Consequently, the firefight moved from their location as the criminals ran. After a much needed moment to breathe, Lucy decided to stand guard while waiting for the ambulance.

"Boot, don't worry about me," he repeated. "Go get him. I'll be fine."

It was easier to ignore his demands when they were spoken between grunts. When he wasn't mobile enough to enforce them.

"That's an order."

"I know it is." She bent down, putting a hand over the one he held against the bullet wound. His blood was wet and warm under her palm. She tried to be gentle, but he still hissed as she applied more pressure, trying to help him stem the bleeding. Again, she felt the heat from the day before, like invisible flames were dancing under her fingers. Would it always burn when she touched him, or if ever he touched her? The whole experience, from blood to burn, was harrowing. "I'll go once the ambulance arrives," she told him, "but for now, I'm right where I need to be."

He didn't ask again. His lips were beginning to look pale, so he may not have had the strength to argue, but he kept his eyes locked on hers, taking deep breaths in through his nose to help manage the pain. She prayed to hear sirens sooner rather than later.

Nausea didn't hit her until the flashing lights came into view, and then it washed over her in a wave at the same time as relief. Lucy managed to stop herself from vomiting until after the paramedics got Tim on oxygen and loaded him up into the back of the ambulance. It was Officer Bishop -Talia- who caught her unloading her lunch into a nearby hedge.

"You gonna be okay?" she asked.

Lucy nodded, even though she wasn't sure. She couldn't even wipe her mouth with Tim's blood still on her hands.

The shop she and Tim shared was a total loss, so she rode back to the precinct with Officer Lopez and Jackson. The remainder of her shift threatened to pass in a haze until Captain Andersen called Lucy into her office.

She felt she might puke again as she knocked on the captain's door.

"You wanted to see me ma'am?"

"Yes, Officer Chen. Come in." Captain Andersen waved the rookie into the room, standing and walking around her desk to address Lucy more informally.

"I heard you saw some action today, so I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Lucy wasn't so sure she was okay, but she nodded because really, what else could she do? "I'm doing all right, ma'am. Thank you."

"Not at all. I'm glad you made it out unscathed. And quick thinking on your part getting Tim away from the patrol vehicle once it caught fire. You saved his life."

She had, hadn't she? She tried very hard not to look to prideful about it. "He'd do the same for any officer, ma'am."

"Yes. He would." A brief moment passed where she seemed to study Lucy closely. "Sergeant Grey has informed me that you and Tim are soulmates. That your timers hit zero during your first roll call yesterday. Is that true?"

"Yes, ma'am, It is."

"I see." The captain didn't seem nearly as amused as Grey had, but neither did she look disappointed. She actually appeared surprisingly neutral about the whole thing."Well why don't you give me a little perspective, Officer Chen. How do you think it's going working with Officer Bradford?"

How much could she really say after two days? She decided her best bet was to be honest, but vague. "He's an excellent officer, Captain. Thorough. Strong." She didn't want to sound too glowing, though, afraid it would come off as flattery; or worse, like she was lovestruck. "A little tough. I don't think he'd say I'm wrong for calling him short-tempered." That, right there? That could be the understatement of the century. She tried to think of what Tim would want her to say, how he would describe himself in this situation. From what little she knew about him, he'd want her to make him look good, but not if it cost her being honest. What she landed on was, "I think he just wants me to be the best police officer I can be, and he'll do what he has to, to make that happen."No matter how much I dislike his methods.she thought but did not add.

Her response seemed to appease Captain Andersen. "And the fact that you're soulmates?"

Lucy shook her head. "Officer Bradford doesn't believe in soulmates, and has promised that it won't interfere with my training, Ma'am."

"I see." Silence followed as the captain walked to the window and looked out, contemplating. Lucy had no choice but to wait for her to speak again.

"Here's what I'm thinking, Officer Chen." Captain Andersen continued to gaze out the window as she spoke. It somehow made her feel more uneasy than eye contact would have. Lucy's jaw clenched as the captain began to relay her fate. "I will let you remain under Officer Bradford's training for the time being. Or rather, once he returns to active duty. But I expect you both to maintain the highest level of integrity throughout your training. There will be no covering for one another, no making exceptions for each other. And under no circumstances will he be allowed to show favoritism to you, or you to him. Do you understand?"

Now Lucy was really glad the captain wasn't looking at her; otherwise, she was sure her face would've been a dead giveaway. All she could think about was their encounter with Isabel and Ghost Head at the convenience store, and her promise to him that she wouldn't say anything to anyone. Her heart began to race, thumping away in her ribs at a gallop. She wondered if her guilt broadcasted as loud on her face?

She managed to croak out a very thin, "I understand."

"Good. You may go." Lucy was thrilled to be dismissed, only just managing not to run for the door when the captain called to her once more. "Just one more thing. We do have strict policies about fraternization between training officers and their rookies. I'm not moving you now, but trust that I will if you or Officer Bradford give me any indication that it is necessary. Are we clear?"

Lucy doubted that day would ever come, but the captain was awaiting an answer; she doubted she would want to hear all the reasons why their relationship would probably never be romantic. What else could Lucy say, except, "Yes, ma'am."

Chapter 3: Room 446

Notes:

"If I can't have my cake
And I can't eat it too
Then I guess the sound of your voice and the aching
Will just have to do."
- "The Trouble With Wanting", Joy Williams

Chapter Text

It was Officer Lopez that let Lucy know that Tim had made it through surgery okay, that he'd been lucky the bullet had gone clean through him. There was no shrapnel for the surgeons to extract and no major damage to any organs. He wouldn't have a very long road to recover, and perhaps the best news of all was he wouldn't need to go through physical therapy before coming back to the job. "Although," Angela tacked on at the end of their conversation, "he'll probably be more of a jackass than usual for a while." Even with that caveat, Lucy was relieved. Waiting for info had made her a wreck. She'd chewed her nails down to stubs, anxious for someone to give her word. Being a rookie, she was one of the last to know and had hung out around the precinct until someone could pass on the news. Now that she knew, she felt better about going home.

At the end of this second, much worse day, all Lucy wanted was a hot meal, a glass of wine, a warm bath, and a long, long,longnight's sleep. She felt like she'd earned that much. Maybe she'd finally use that Lush bath bomb she'd been saving; the one that made the water look like a drawing in a Ghibli movie. Yeah, that sounded nice. She hummed to herself as she changed into her street clothes, already planning her soak playlist when Talia walked up to her with different plans.

"You ready, Boot?" the other officer said, catching her next to her locker as Lucy pulled up the zipper on her boots. Talia had also changed into her street clothes, donning jeans and a jacket instead of her uniform.

Lucy was confused. "Ready? For what?"

"Tim's conscious. Still in the ICU, but they'll allow visitors until 8pm. Figured you might want to see him."

She did, she absolutely did, but Lucy was still unsure what was appropriate for a rookie to do for their TO. Was she expected to visit him in the hospital, or was that crossing a line? Was there some imaginary boundary erected to keep rookies from getting too familiar with their training officers in cases like this? Being his soulmate only made things more difficult. She wanted to see him -wanted it pretty badly, actually- but what would happen when she saw him lying in the bed, stitches in his side, needles in his arms? Would she be able to handle it?

Would he even want her there?

Her hesitation lasted long enough that Talia repeated her first question, prompting Lucy to admit, "I don't know that he wants to see me, is the thing."

She appreciated that Talia didn't try contradict or correct her. She didn't say "of course he does" just for the sake of her feelings. To be honest, Talia probably didn't know either. The best she could do was offer her an out. "I have to stop by Tim's house and grab a few things to bring him. He's going to be in the hospital for a few days before he can go home. You can decide whether you'll go up to his room tonight on the way, if you don't mind coming along for the ride."

That sounded good enough to Lucy; at least this way, she had more time to weigh her options. Hell, she could even let Talia go up first and get the lay of the land before visiting herself.

They stopped by Tim's house first. Talia went in while Lucy waited in the car. She studied the exterior of his house from the passenger's seat. Whatever she had expected from a home owned by Tim, it wasn't this. The house was a decent size for LA, clean, bright, and well-maintained; a ranch-style standalone with white vinyl siding and dark shutters. Golden-hued lights turned on gradually as Talia walked from room to room, filling a canvas overnight bag for Tim as she went. She occasionally caught a glimpse of her through the large grid window that faced the driveway. The front lawn was immaculately kept. A small garden lined the path parallel to the front door, comprised mostly of greenery, a hedge and a few elephant ears, among other plants. She thought it could do with a little color; maybe something that flowered. Perhaps she'd pick him up an African violet as a get-well present. If he kept that alive, she could let him graduate to something more complicated. Like petunias.

The mental image that conjured -Tim in gardening gloves and a sunhat, pinch-pruning petals off dying buds- made her laugh a little.

Talia soon returned and handed the bag for Lucy to hold during the drive to Shaw Memorial.

"You doing okay, Boot?" she asked as they drove.

"Yes, ma'am," Lucy replied quickly, figuring that was the answer expected of her.

Talia wasn't convinced. "Right, so I'm gonna ask again and you're going to tell the truth this time." She glanced Lucy's way. "Are you doing okay, Boot?"

Now that she knew she was actually asking and not just being polite, Lucy let out a sigh. "I'm… the past two days have been…" After a few more false starts, she finally stated, "It's just been a lot."

Talia nodded, understanding her. "We can talk about it. If you want."

"Do you really want to know?"

A pause as she considered. "I mean, not really. I don't need to know, if that's what you're wondering."

"Oh."

Another stretch of silence filled the car before Talia tried again. "Look. You're gonna be important to Tim, and he's my friend. So you can talk if you need to talk, and I'll listen."

Lucy tried not to focus on theyou're gonna be important to Timpart of what Talia said, even though it secretly thrilled her to hear someone else acknowledge their soulmate bond in a way that didn't frame it as a potential liability. What she did respond with was, "I wouldn't know what to say."

"Well, for starters, do you like Tim?"

Did she? Based on first impressions alone, she'd kind of written him off as a bit of an asshat on day one, although that didn't stop the bond between them from flaring periodically over the last two days. Namely, whenever they touched. Just because she didn't like him right now didn't mean she didn't care what happened to him, and didn't mean it wouldn't become something more in the future.

In answer to Talia's question, at first she said, "It's not that simple," because honestly, it wasn't. No matter what happened,simplewould never be a word that described them. Simple was a luxury that fate had not afforded them.

Simple…if onlyit could be simple.

Endeavoring to be a bit more to the point, Lucy added, "And anyway, I barely know him."

Talia's rebuttal was quick. "He made your timer zero out. Simple or not, that's not nothing."

"No, it isn't nothing," Lucy agreed. "But it's also… not something. This thing? This… whatever? Is complicated. It's going to be complicated. More complicated than I thought it would be." More than she had ever dreamed to plan for. She smiled a little, a memory from just before her first shift as a rookie coming to mind. "It never even occurred to me that my soulmate would be a cop. I was actually worried I'd match with a criminal."

At that, Talia laughed. "You? And a criminal? Now that I would've liked to see." She let out another chuckle or two at the thought before speaking again. "It may be for the best that you and Tim don't jump into anything right away. There might be some exceptions for soulmates, but dating a cop while being a cop? Usually that shit can mark you for life. You might ruin your career before it even starts.

"I know you haven't asked for it, but if you want my advice, you shouldn't get into anything with Tim until you're through your rookie year. It'll be best for you both to wait."

Lucy looked down at the bag filled with Tim's belongings as she considered what Talia had just said. She didn't want to be nosy, but Officer Bishop had spoken like a woman who knew, and that made her curious. If it were anyone else, she may have asked how she came by this knowledge, but Lucy got the impression this conversation wasn't that reciprocal. There was also the fact that Talia seemed to regard her and Tim as some certain, sewn-up thing, and they most definitely weren't. Far from it, in fact… but the car ride to Shaw Memorial wasn't long enough for that conversation. All she said in return was, "Thanks. That's good advice," and left it at that.

She still hadn't really decided whether she'd go into Tim's room when Talia pulled into the visitors' parking lot and said, "Get out."

Her order caught Lucy so much by surprise that she replied, "Wait, what?"

"You heard me. Get out." Talia pointed to the bag in her lap. "Tim needs his things." When Lucy still didn't move, she prodded, "You best get going, Boot. Visiting hours end in thirty minutes."

"But I thought-"

"-Your first mistake."

"Shouldn't you take the bag to him? I mean, he knows you." Timer notwithstanding, Lucy was still basically a stranger to him.

"I never said I was going to take the bag to him. I said I'd drive you here and I'd let you decide whether or not you'd go up. You failed to decide one way or the other, so I'm choosing for you. Now get out."

"But-"

"-You ever been tased, Boot?"

Talia was joking. She had to be… even though her face didn't so much as hint at teasing. On second thought, rather than risk it, Lucy got out.

"Be down by 8, you understand?" Talia ordered through the open passenger door. "I've got a full DVR at home and if I don't get through two episodes of 'Grey's Anatomy' before I go to bed, I'll have your sub TO make you do 50 pushups every hour on the hour tomorrow."

"Every hour?!"

"Hell yeah. On. The. Hour."

The threat (or rather, thepromise) ringing like a warning in her ears, Lucy jogged towards the lobby.

She didn't like hospitals. Never had. Something about the dry, antiseptic-scented air combined with the buzzing fluorescent lights made Lucy feel prone to panicking. She'd only had to come to the hospital twice before in her life; once, when she fell from a rental pony giving rides at a friend's birthday and needed to have her right arm set. She'd been nine then and had chosen purple plaster for her cast. The second time was as an adult, and she was saying goodbye to her grandmother for the last time. It was hard not to see her Nana in every haggard face she glimpsed through cracked and opened doors while walking down the hall of the ICU ward. She tried not to remember how Tim's lips gradually losing color as she stood over him in the alley had made her think of Nana.

Room 446, Talia had texted her, was where Tim was staying. The floor was unnecessarily complicated, almost labyrinthian, so she didn't locate his room until she had had to double back, finally finding it not far from the elevators. The location was unlucky. A lot of people probably passed his room, which explained why the door was kept shut with that preference noted on a dry erase board under the room number. A bright yellow, diamond-shaped sign posted to the door marked him as a fall risk, no doubt due to being under general anesthesia within the last 24 hours. If it were Nolan, she'd poke a little fun at his expense, but this was Tim. Tim was the anti-Nolan, so she wouldn't even mention it. Save him a little pride or whatever. He seemed the type to treasure his pride.

She knocked softly, three quiet raps, and tried not to fidget while waiting for him to acknowledge her. If he didn't answer… well, she wasn't sure what she'd do. Leave the bag with the nurse's station maybe? If he was asleep, she could sneak in and set it somewhere he could easily reach it. Finally, after what felt like a full ten minutes of awkwardly staring at the door, she heard Tim say, "Come in."

The first thing Lucy noticed when she opened the door was Tim sitting up in the bed. That was a good sign. A really good sign, and she heaved a sigh of relief at seeing him upright.

"Don't get too excited, Boot," he said, even though his face was missing its usual scowl when he addressed her. "Acting happy to see me won't earn you any brownie points."

Of course he managed to bring the mood down immediately with something snide. "You didn't see how pale you were before the ambulance came," she snapped back. "I can be relieved and mean it, you know." The room was nice and clean, but a little small. She closed most of the distance between them with just a few steps but hung back the last two or so feet, only walking close enough to hand him the canvas bag. "These are from your house. Don't worry. Talia picked up everything. I didn't even leave the car."

He glanced into the bag, then looked back up at her.

"She made you stay in the car?" Tim asked.

"No, Ichoseto stay in the car. Didn't think you'd want me snooping around your living space on my second day as your rookie. Who knows what dirt I'd dig up while I was there?" She meant it to sound playful, but even as she said it, it felt a little flat.

"As if I'd leave dirt out for you to find."

"So you admit there's dirt?"

His eyes narrowed. Yep. He was officially not impressed with her attempts at levity, leaving no real recourse for her but to back away from the joke.

"Um…" she searched for a new topic, something safer. Less awkward. "You have a nice house. What I saw of it, I mean. The outside is really pretty."

"Thanks. Isabel chose it."

Of course she had. Lucy should've realized it earlier. As nice as it was -with its white vinyl, immaculate lawn, homey lighting- nothing about Tim's house seemed to match the man in front of her. What little she knew of him, anyway.

A sort of table was near Tim's left elbow, one of those contraptions on a hinge that allowed him to swing it closer to reach whatever he needed. He placed the tote bag next to his cup of water and remote, then looked back at her. "Well. I'll see you later."

Oh. Okay. So… it wasn't like she'd been expecting a super long visit or anything. This was hardly a time for deep conversations, for heart to hearts, but to be honest she was sort of hurt that he wouldn't give her more than "thanks" and "goodbye". She was reminded again that they weren't on the same wavelength at all. She still hadn't overcome the desire to treat him like her soulmate. He was still pretty keen to pretend she didn't exist. Their positions as training officer and rookie only made both of their wishes impossible to fulfill.

"So that's… it, then?" she asked.

"Looks like it."

"Really?"

Tim scoffed once as he replied, "I'm not sure what else you expected from me, Chen."

She made an attempt at processing what she was feeling at the moment, trying and failing to pinpoint each emotion. It was too much for one heart, too much for one brain to handle all at once. She'd have to take it in by pieces, and here -in his hospital room with its bad landscape paintings and the smell of Purell in the air— was the wrong place to do it, and yet here she was. She ran the gamut of negative emotions in the span of a few moments; grief, anger, loss, fear. All of it boiled up inside her at once to the point that she felt she might spontaneously combust.

"Yeah," she said, after the five or so seconds where her brain short-circuited. "Yeah, no. Not sure what I expected either." Then, because she figured it was what he wanted, she added, "I won't bother you again."

That response earned her an eye-roll. "Come on. Don't be dramatic," Tim replied.

"I'm not being dramatic, Tim." After forty-eight hours of him being condescending, she was sick of it. "I'm upset. I'm allowed to be upset. But I'm not being dramatic." Her voice wavered only a little when she contradicted him, tears threatening the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back. Letting herself cry now might only lend legitimacy to his accusations of her being dramatic, and she refused to let him think he was right. "All things considered, I'm handling things pretty damn well, but you're not. Outside of the usual TO bully stuff, you've been mean." He tried to disagree, but she cut him off. "You've been mean, and you are being dismissive." And wasn't that just the crux of it all? From the second they'd met, he'd been dismissive. Not just about the timers. Not just about soulmates. He'd been dismissive of her personally right from the get-go.

I'm sure you're a nice girl.

I don't believe in soulmates.

Didn't think it was your business.

I'm not sure what else you expected from me, Chen.

"I know this wasn't what you wanted. Hell, you've made it perfectly clear thatIwasn't what you wanted." As she continued, she still tried to show him sympathy, no matter how hurt and angry she rightfully felt. "But this isn't my fault. You think I walked into roll call and said to myself, 'hey, that guy'll do'? You know I didn't! Your timer hit zero, same as mine. I didn't do this to you any more than you did this to me." She gave her words a second to breathe, leaving him ample space for him to respond if he chose to, but Tim remained purposefully silent and avoided her eyes.

Remembering what Talia had said in the car, Lucy was inspired to add just one more thing. Leave it to someone as incisive as Officer Bishop to divine the truth in a simple, but profound way. She was tempted to write her a thank-you card or something for summing them up so well.

"I don't want anything from you except for us to be good to each other, because like it or not, Tim," Lucy said, "you're going to be important to me."

Finally, that did it.

Finally,he looked up.

He looked up, met her eyes, and held them captive with his own. It made her feel hopeful. It made her feel small.

So she waited. She waited for something, for evidence that anything she'd said had resonated with him; for something she'd said or done to prompt a reply. Nothing did. When it was apparent her efforts would be rewarded only with his continued silence, she walked toward the door. With her hand on the lever, she looked back at him one more time. He was staring down now, looking intently at his left wrist. There was a faint tan line about two inches thick below the joint, but otherwise it was bare. Naked except for his timer. The doctors must have taken his watch off before surgery. There was nothing for him to hide that piece of plastic behind now.

Was he ashamed of it? Did he regret it, like people regret bad tattoos? And if it was shame that caused him to conceal it, did that mean he was (at least subconsciously) ashamed of her?

"Why?" Her voice came out in a whisper. "Why did you even get a timer if you don't believe in it?" She permitted herself to wonder aloud, half to herself and half to him. Although it hurt to admit it, she considered it might have been better to have a blank countdown than a match who regarded her at best with apathy, and sometimes with antipathy.

"I won't bother you again," she said, repeating her promise from earlier. This time, he said nothing, and let her go in peace.

Chapter 4: The Wrigley Route

Notes:

"Loving him is like trying to change your mind
Once you're already flying through the free fall
Like the colors in autumn, so bright
Just before they lose it all"
"Red", Taylor Swift

Chapter Text

True to her word, Lucy stayed away. To be honest, she figured the time apart could be good for her. Now that she knew who her soulmate was, she tried to force herself to stop obsessing over it. It was a lot easier not to daydream now that she knew it was Tim; even though it appeared he was separated from his wife to some degree, fantasizing about him while he was married to another woman felt wrong and a little gross. She was able to derive a small amount of comfort from knowing she wasn't the first unfortunate soul whose match was already taken in some way or another when their timer went off. Reddit, Twitter, Facebook, and even Tumblr were filled with unlucky saps just like her. Sometimes it seemed like there were more unhappy pairing than happy ones.

Distracting herself came easily. She threw herself into studying for the job, picked up crocheting (promptly putting it down after three failed scarves in a row), and when being left to her own devices was not enough, she was lucky to have friends who were happy to play into meeting this need. That was how Nolan became somewhat of a safe space for her. She'd never forced him to share exactly what went wrong with his own soulmate, but now that she was in the middle of her own bad experience, he was more forthcoming.

Especially after having a few drinks, which is how he ended up volunteering the whole story without any egging from either Lucy or Jackson. The man really was the picture of oversharing when he wanted to be.

"I met Grace in college," he began unprompted when the three of them went out for drinks after their last shift of the week.

"She was an art student. Our timers went off at a kegger. Come to think of it, it's kind of amazing that we could hear the beeping over the party." A moment passed where Nolan was calling more memories to mind, and the smile on his lips -a very particular, soft smile that she'd never seen on his face before- made him look younger by years. "It was instant. Almost too easy how good we were for each other, and then we were inseparable for two months."

"Then what happened?" Jackson asked. Lucy was anxious to know, too, enthralled even though she could guess at the outcome based on what she knew about his past already.

Nolan hesitated, bringing his beer to his lips. "My ex." He took a sip before continuing. "My timer was about done with the countdown, and she hated it. Hated that we'd even started seeing each other when I was this close to zero. We had a huge fight over it. I really thought I loved her, so I tried to tell her we could make it work no matter what happened with my timer or my soulmate, but she didn't believe me. Called it all off a week before I met Grace." She watched as he picked absently at the label on his beer bottle, staring off into the middle distance as he spoke again. "Showed up two months later and told me she was pregnant, and wanted to know whether I meant it about making it work no matter my timer."

Lucy's eyebrows shot up as realization dawned on her. "And you told her yes?"

"I had to. I'd already said the timer wouldn't matter."

"But it did."

Nolan nodded slowly. Sadly. "Of course it did. But being there for my kid- for Henry- mattered more."

Lucy looked down at her hands as she absorbed Nolan's words. "I think that's where Tim's at with…" with what? It wasn't like she could tell the others that Tim's wife was a drug addict. It wasn't her business to tell, for one thing, not to mention it would open her up to all sorts of questions about how she came by this info. All of them knew Bradford well enough by now to know he wouldn't volunteer that sort of info. No, saying anything would take them too close to the afternoon where she and Tim happened upon Isabel (and all the consequent ass-covering she'd done for her TO) for her liking.

"With? What?" Jackson asked, gesturing with one hand to get her to continue.

She looked up, forcing a smirk on her face. "Sorry, I think I'm spacing out a little." Tapping her margarita glass for emphasis, she sang, "Blame it on Patrón."

If the boys didn't buy her weak excuse, no one said anything. Luckily, Lucy's phone began to ring just a few seconds after and her bluff was soon forgotten. She didn't recognize the number and almost sent it to voicemail, but Nolan stopped her.

"Talia mentioned Tim was getting discharged today," he said, motioning vaguely towards her phone. "Could be something about that?"

This was news to Lucy. "Tim's getting out today?" she asked, incredulous. Oh, so Nolan knew that Tim was getting out, but she didn't.Cool. That's fine.she thought sarcastically. What else could she have expected when she'd told the man "I won't bother you again"? She meant it, but she'd only said it because every time she looked at him, he made it obvious her presence was a bother. It was a good thing tequila had preemptively dulled the ache this information evoked.

A look passed between Jackson and and Nolan, a lot of mutters and eyebrows lifting as each tried to pawn the responsibility of telling Lucy more off to one another. The phone stopped ringing before anyone else spoke. Then she got a text.

"Turns out the number belonged to Officer Lopez," Lucy said as she opened the message and looked it over. It was a picture of Angela, Talia, and a nurse. They were crowded around Tim who was seated in a wheelchair and looked pissed (or like himself, depending who was asked). She had only had the picture up for a minute when she received a second text.

Me and Talia sprang Tim from the hospital. We've got him home and resting now. Thought you'd like to know. Want me to pass a message on to him?

"What's she saying?" Jackson asked.

She turned the screen around, showing them both the picture and the message. Once they'd read the text, she wondered aloud, "What should I tell her?"

Jackson asked, "Is there anything you want to say to Tim?"

Lots. Loads, even, but she'd made a promise. Although now, days later, she was motivated to stick with it by her own stubbornness more than anything else.

She took another sip from her margarita before typing out a quick text that she hoped sounded appreciative, but appropriately non-committal.

Didn't know he was getting out today. Thanks for telling me.

Within seconds, Angela replied.

Is that for me or for him?

Lucy had meant the answer to be for Angela alone, but she could see how it might also serve as a message to Tim. A dig, if delivered sarcastically, which from what Lucy knew of Angela was what she leaned towards anyway.

You choose,she replied, then silenced her phone and put it face down on the table, determined to ignore it for the rest of the night.

They stayed out later than they should have, but Lucy would gladly drink extra coffee the next morning in exchange for this night out. They left the bar as a trio a little before midnight. Jackson had managed to snag a parking spot near the entrance, whereas Lucy and Nolan hadn't been so lucky. Ever the gentleman, Nolan saw her to her car first, even though it was parked farther away than his truck.

"You going to be okay, Luce?" he asked once her car came into view.

She nodded. She'd started pacing her drinks with water long before now and was completely sober. "You're sweet to ask, but I'm all right to drive."

"Oh. I wasn't asking if you were sober. Although, you are sober, right?"

Her brow furrowed. "I am. Wait a second. If you weren't asking if I was sober, what did you mean by 'going to be okay'?"

Nolan responded with a little hemming, a little hawing. Eventually after a good deal of prodding, she got the truth out of him.

"Talia may have mentioned that you came down pretty shaken up after visiting Tim last week."

Lucy couldn't say she was surprised, but she was disappointed. She should've seen this coming. Should've guessed that she wasn't entitled to that kind of privacy as a rookie or something like that. Looking back now, she wondered if Talia offering to drive wasn't so much a favor to her and Tim as it was motivated by orders. Just a little "undercover investigating" for Grey and Andersen, maybe.

Shit. If Nolan knew she'd left the hospital upset, who else knew?

He seemed to guess her train of thought and was quick to reassure her, shutting down any notion of ulterior motives. "She wasn't reporting to anyone on you. Honest. Talia was just concerned. She thought I should check in on you as your friend."

Her fists clenched and unclenched, car keys digging into the palm of her left hand every time her fist flexed. It grounded her enough to stammer out, "You promise?"

Nolan looked almost crestfallen to have his loyalty second-guessed. "I just want to know you're okay."

It was tempting to lie. Brush it off with a laugh, make some stupid joke like she had at the bar just to get him off her back. It would be so easy to be less than completely honest… but this wasNolanshe was talking to. One of the only people she could be completely transparent with and not fear judgment; if not the only one, period.

"I'm not okay, Nolan," she admitted. It felt good to say aloud to someone else. Someone who wasn't asking just to be polite. Someone who got it. "I'm not. I don't know what's going to happen when he comes back to the job. What I'll do. What I'll feel."

He nodded and she realized he had probably guessed as much already. "I wish I could tell you it gets better, Lucy."

She wanted nothing more than to hear that it would. "But it doesn't, does it? Get better? It's always going to hurt?"

His response didn't take as negative a bend as her thoughts, but he did concede with that same sad smile as before, "I miss Grace every day."

Hearing him say that didn't exactly restore her hope, but she did feel a little less lonely, managing to joke, "Do you ever feel like we're just victims of a fucking stopwatch on steroids?"

"All the damn time."

She laughed a little at his answer, but quickly grew solemn. "What do I do, Nolan?"

Nolan paused a moment. He took giving advice very seriously and never wanted to dole it out too hastily. It was one of the things Lucy appreciated about him the most.

"It's going to hurt for a while, and you're just going to have to let it. Gonna have to sit in it, live with it, and eventually you learn to walk wounded," he said. She'd figured as much, but it still sucked to hear that from someone who'd been down this road before. "Give it a little time, though. You'll find something."

"What do you mean," she wondered. "What will I find?"

"I guess I mean something that matters more than what your timer says."

In Tim's absence, Lucy found herself passed around between a bunch of different veteran officers for her training. She tried to learn something from each of them, but as the days went on, she could hear Tim in the back of her head, criticizing her for picking up any number of undesirable habits from officers who he viewed as lesser.

Today's pick was Officer Wrigley, a quintessential nice-guy who was good at the job in his very specific way (to put it politely), but who was a little too golly-gee for her liking. Rather than quiz her over the course of the morning, he told Lucy about his wife, Annette. They'd met in middle school and had been together ever since. They got timers, but only to confirm what they already knew.

"We didn't even get to have a countdown," he said to Lucy, beaming as he recounted the story to her (unasked, but she wasn't going to be rude; seeing someone so enthusiastic about their wife after so long together was refreshing). "I got mine implanted first, was right next to her when she got hers, and the second it turned on, well it might as well have been wedding bells."

She smiled supportively. "That's a really sweet story."Please let it be the last one.

"Yeah, we think it's pretty special, if a little lacking in drama. Nothing like yours and Bradford's timers." Coming out of anyone else's mouth, it might have sounded mean. Not Wrigley's though. "I bet that was the surprise of your life, huh?"

"Yeah," she replied, looking down at her hands. She couldn't see the timer behind her long-sleeves, but one finger traced over it through the fabric of her uniform. "Yeah. It was something else, that's for sure." Whether that "something else" was good or not remained to be seen, she thought.

It felt like it took forever to finally make it to lunch hour, but once it arrived, Lucy was more than ready for the break. Sitting parked in a police vehicle waiting for people to jaywalk or roll through stop signs was mind-numbingly boring. She was grateful for the change of scenery, even if it meant one hour of Wrigley stories without the occasional interruption of less-than-lawful drivers.

"All right, Officer Chen. I'll be back in an hour," Wrigley said to her after walking her into the diner.

She blinked, confused. "You're not staying?"

"Nah. I head home for lunch. I like to get the wool pants off, relax a little. Be back in 40!" Then he saw himself out without another word.

Well. She wasn't mad about having a lunch without company. And, no offense to Annette, but if she heard another word about her, Lucy was afraid she'd scream. A chunk of time to herself could only improve her ability to get through the day without a total nervous breakdown.

There was no hostess, so Lucy sat herself in a booth in plain view of the exit. That was something Tim had already hammered into her skull. She ordered a veggie burger and fries, not because she was feeling particularly peckish, but a little comfort food sounded nice today. A part of her felt a little jealous hearing Wrigley talking about his wife in such glowing terms, and even her best efforts to tamp that reaction down hadn't completely succeeded. If she drowned her feelings in a burger and fries, at least she wouldn't be hungry on top of it all.

She'd just received her meal and poured a little ketchup pool on her plate when someone took a seat on the bench across from her. She was briefly startled, relaxing only when she saw it was Tim.

Then she tensed, her breath hitching in her chest and her spine going rigid,becauseit was Tim.

"Why the long face, Boot?" Tim asked, interlacing his fingers in front of him and leaning forward as he spoke.

"No reason," she was quick to say. Too quick; Tim's eyes narrowed a little, judging her. Her answer was suspicious apparently.

"Uh huh. Sure."

If he was trying to get a rise out of her, she wouldn't take the bait. "Are you here to check on me?"

"Please. I live around the corner. I know Wrigley drops his rookies off here for lunch and since I was already out getting takeout, I figured I'd stop by."

How did he do that, she wondered. How did he manage to sound so… unfazed after everything? She spent the past week agonizing over every word, every expression, every nuance of their conversation at the hospital, and he acted like he hadn't thought of it at all.

Acted like it, she realized, because he probably hadn't.

"You must like how quiet it is with Wrigley, though," Tim said before snagging one of her fries.

Anyone else and she would've smacked their hand for being a fry thief, but she didn't so much as scold him because he was her… TO. Not because he was her soulmate, she told herself. Definitely not that.

"Actually, he's surprisingly chatty. Talks a lot about his wife, Annette. Did you know they've been together since they were teenagers? Must be nice to feel that way about someone."

She hadn't meant it to sound like a low blow, but it was out of her mouth before she could really think about it, and only after had she realized how he might choose to interpret it. A few seconds passed where she watched his face as he weighed how to answer her. Luckily, her walkie interrupted them with a buzz of static followed quickly by new info.

"Wilshire units, store owner called with suspected shoplifter. Caucasian male, yellow track suit. 314 Franklin Drive."

Well, there wasn't much Lucy could do about that one, no matter the proximity to her location. She didn't have a car and her acting TO was currently off-duty.

Tim had different plans for her, though.

"That's only three blocks from here, Boot."

She tried not to roll her eyes. "How? How am I supposed to respond? Wrigley's not here and I have no car."

"You got legs, don't ya?"

Ofcoursehe'd expect her to run out anyway. She shouldn't have been surprised by the suggestion. Top it off with the fact that he was looking at her with those blue eyes of his, and that smirk that made his dimples appear, and even though she was still pretty angry with him there was another, more primitive part of her that wanted to impress him. Collar this guy and be awarded with praise; or at least, with something other than his disdain for once.

Lucy grabbed her walkie and responded, "7-Adam-21, responding on foot."

"Your bill?" Bradford called out as she ran towards the door.

She yelled back, "I'll have to owe you!"

The chase was brief. It was easy to spot the yellow tracksuit from a good distance. The guymusthave been high on something; no sober person would shoplift dressed as bright as a stoplight. She caught and tackled him, cuffed him, and was on her feet by the time Wrigley pulled up with the shop. To her surprise, Tim walked up to her a few minutes later, carrying a small cardboard box with her lunch in it.

"I had them box it up a few seconds after you ran out," Tim said, handing her the container after she had put the thief in the back seat and shut the door.

"Oh. Thanks. How much do I owe you?" she asked.

"This one's on me, Boot." Then, he walked away without another word before she could object.

Lucy was confused as she watched him walk past the diner. There was a split-second where she almost shouted out to him to ask him what the hell he was doing, but he'd already rounded the corner. She tried not to overthink it. Really, she tried; but hadn't he told her he'd left his house to pick up food?

Then why was he walking away from the diner empty-handed when there were no takeout restaurants that way?

She was assigned to Wrigley the next day as well. If nothing else, Lucy had to give it him for being consistent. Another productive morning (by Wrigley standards) followed with six tickets written, two warnings given, and zero chases on foot. Later, when he revealed his reasoning for choosing a slower beat, she came to respect it even if it wasn't a choice she could see herself making.

Which is why she gave him a chance to beg off when she responded to Bishop's call for backup. He wasn't used to this kind of policing. Even though her statement "whether you're in the car with me or not" would have sounded insubordinate to any other training officer, that was not the spirit in which she said it to him. He had children he wanted to see. His was wife expecting him home safely that evening. She didn't expect him to risk that one bit and was both surprised and a little proud when he chose to join her.

They arrived at the house on Bailey Avenue to find Nolan and Officer Bishop with the missing woman, Emma, and the criminal fleeing. The most dangerous part of the call was already behind them, which made Lucy exhale in relief. Wrigley chose to stay behind, calling in for an ambulance and a supervisor as Lucy, Nolan, and Bishop took off after the abductor. Nolan caught him. While he and Bishop him read him his rights, Lucy returned to the house, finding paramedics attending to Emma and Wrigley overseeing the scene.

"That's two exciting days in a row, Officer Chen," Wrigley said as she walked over to him. "Having you as my Boot is more effective than cardio."

After seeing Emma off, they returned to the precinct so she could file the paperwork from their day. By the time she finished she was close to clocking out and was surprised to see Tim waiting in the bullpen.

Not waiting forherof course. He had obviously come to talk to Sergeant Grey or Captain Andersen, although he was currently speaking with Wrigley, laughing about something she couldn't hear. When she approached, the conversation stalled.

"Great working with you, Officer Chen," Wrigley said to her. She could tell he meant it and wasn't just saying it in front of Tim for her benefit.

"You too, sir."

Once he'd walked away, Tim turned to Lucy. "I'm cleared for duty. Turned in my paperwork."

She nodded, having guessed as much. "Okay."

"… That's all I get? 'Okay'?" He feigned disappointment, making a rather unconvincing play at being hurt by her lack of care.

In response, Lucy shrugged. "I'm not sure what else you expected from me, sir." She made a point to deliver it with a half-smile so he'd know she was teasing. Sure, it was a little petty to intentionally echo their conversation at the hospital, but it was already out. No taking it back now.

To be honest, she was kind of curious to see how he'd respond.

It was a little shocking he didn't get angry like she expected. Instead, he chuckled and replied, "Can't say I didn't deserve that a little."

You think?She thought, but refrained from saying. She'd gotten one knock in; she wasn't going to push her luck by trying another. Not when they were being almost pleasant to each other. She wanted to keep that running as long as she possibly could.

Instead, she asked, "You had me assigned to Wrigley, didn't you? Why?"

Tim looked a little frustrated that she'd even had to ask. "Everything is a test, Boot. If you'd been okay with doing a Wrigley route, I'd know you weren't serious about becoming a good cop."

"And since I wasn't okay with it?"

"Then you stand a chance at being a good cop, don't you? Especially if I have anything to do with it." He nodded toward the locker room. "You should head out. Get some rest. Gonna have a long day tomorrow."

"Okay, but first, can we talk?" she asked, hoping he'd say yes without question.

Instead he just sort of blinked at her, confused. "About what?"

Wait… was he serious? Did he get a head injury as well as a gunshot wound? "About what happened in the hospital?" He stared at her, still not responding. "It got really tense… we, okay,Isaid a lot of pretty heavy stuff." When he still said nothing, she ventured to ask, "Don't you remember?"

"Oh, I remember," Tim replied, his voice cold. "I just don't know why you think we'd need to talk about it."

She could pinpoint the moment her face turned red with embarrassment. "I mean, all this is really complicated, right? Shouldn't we, I don't know…" she looked away. Out the window, down at her shoes; anywhere that wasn't his eyes, staring her down with so much scrutiny. "Shouldn't we establish some boundaries or something?"

"Boundaries?" He huffed out a scornful laugh. "Boot. The only boundaries you need to worry about are the ones I give you for the job."

"Okay, but-"

"You want to talk about boundaries, huh? How's this for one: I told you I don't believe in soulmates, and yet here you are keep bringing it up again. You insinuating our working relationship needs boundaries in order to function means you don't take me at my word when I say that I don't believe in it. So what is it? Are you calling me a liar, Boot?" She mumbled a response that was spoken more to the floor than to him. It seemed to only aggravate him more. "Speak up," he ordered.

"I said," she began quietly, "'I didn't say they were for you'."

Tim was visibly taken aback at her admission, his mouth falling open, eyes going wide. Lucy had known it was a loaded confession that could cause any number of reactions from him. She knew it before the words left her mouth, but she hadn't quite counted on stunning him into silence.

Whatever. She wasn't sorry for saying it. He could deny the truth all he wanted. It changed nothing.

"I'll handle it on my own, sir," she said, taking the onus to respond off of him. "I thought you'd want to help but clearly I was wrong about you. Been happening a lot lately so I guess I shouldn't be surprised." She spoke quickly and allowed herself to imbue the words with just a little venom -he'd earned a little venom from her by this point- before she turned away. She left him some combination of irritated and dumbfounded if the way his jaw clenched was any indication.

Good. Let him be on the back foot for once. See how he liked it.

Chapter 5: You Should Know By Now

Notes:

"Now and again I get the feeling
Well if I don't win, I'm a gonna break even
Rescue me, should I go wrong
If I dig too deep, if I stay too long"
- "You Wreck Me", Tom Petty

Chapter Text

Lucy tried to sleep. Tried, and failed. The night was spent fitfully, a combination of tossing, turning, and scrolling Twitter on her phone before her alarm rang at 6am, alerting her it was time to meet Nolan and Jackson for a morning run at the beach. Even though she was separated from her last confrontation with Tim by a few hours, she was no calmer. No happier. She didn't know how she would handle this next shift without finding herself under a new TO, if not dismissed from the program completely.

She put on a happy face for the guys when she met them on the boardwalk, but lagged behind when Jackson headed them off on their run. He was the fastest out of the trio, although to be fair he had a slight edge over both of the other rookies. Lucy's legs were much shorter than his, making for smaller strides, and Nolan had an uphill battle against his age (although she'd never dream of saying that out loud to him). When Nolan slowed down so did she, grateful to have the excuse for hanging back and intending to take advantage of the moment alone to ask for advice.

"Tim's back today," Lucy said to him as they walked, watching Jackson's lead widen.

"You mentioned that," Nolan answered, hedging. Lucy could tell he wanted to ask questions but also wanted to be respectful. He wouldn't force her to say anything she wasn't ready to.

"I don't know what's going to happen."

"Well, you saved the guy's life. I'm sure he'll cut you slack for a few days," he replied.

She wished she were that lucky. "No. I don't think he will."

"Why?"

"I… might have yelled at him yesterday." When Nolan looked shocked, she was quick to amend. "A little. It was only a little."

"Lucy!" It was unusual for Nolan to admonish her, but he managed to do so with just her name.

She sighed. "I didn't mean to. He's just so infuriating."

"What did he say?"

"It's not what he said," she replied. "It's what he didn't. Or wouldn't. Whichever." They walked a few steps in silence before she clarified. "I think we need boundaries, because between us being soulmates, and all of the stuff with his wife-"

"- Wait, he's married?"

"Yes. Did I not tell you that?" When he shook his head, she said, "Oh. Well, try to keep up," and nudged him with her elbow. "Between all of the stuff with his wife, and with my training, and then he got shot on top of it all… I have no clue what's going to happen today." Then, she looked up at Nolan, waiting for him to impart some hard-won wisdom.

He didn't have any. In fact, all he managed to respond with was, "Sorry, I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that Tim is married."

She laughed. "You're no help, you know that?"

"I'm serious! Someone married him?" When Lucy laughed again, he added, "On purpose?"

It was a rare instance where Nolan had no advice to offer her, but at least he managed to make her smile. That was better than nothing.

Hours later in the roll call room, the rookies waited for the shift to start, seated as always at the front of the room. Suddenly, an officer towards the back started clapping. The smattering of applause spread, with some officers standing to their feet. Lucy could only barely make out Tim's silhouette through the crowd of people who had stood to recognize him.

She contributed claps of her own to the overall response, but they were half-hearted, slow, and more than a little sarcastic. Clap. Clap. Clap.

Her hopes for a long morning meeting soon proved to be in vain. Sergeant Grey doled out assignments quickly, and by doing so left her no more cover from her TO. So, in an effort to buy herself just a little more time before the reckoning, she did her best to rush out of the room without making eye contact. Grabbing their gear bought her another ten minutes when she let Nolan and Jackson cut in front of her, and then she had to pack the shop according to Tim's directions. He arrived just as she shut the trunk, and there was a painfully awkward moment when they just stared each other down, daring the other to break first.

It was Lucy -would it always be Lucy?- who made the first move towards peace. Not because she wanted to, but no matter how upset she still was, she refused to receive low marks for the day due to being petulant on the job.

"Do you want me to drive?" she asked.

Tim already looked pained this morning, but his expression twisted into a sneer at her question, now seeming downright insulted. "Why would I want that, Boot? You think I'd go back on duty before I'm 100 percent? Or do you think you deserve special treatment for some reason?"

If it was an argument he was after, he'd be sorely disappointed. Even as he walked towards her, she refused to so much as glance upward to meet his eyes, knowing she'd have to crane her neck to do so if he got much closer. The second he deigned to enter her personal space, she simply walked around him without another word, helping herself to the passenger side and buckling her seatbelt.

There was silence when they got in the car. Silence when they pulled out of the garage. Silence, silence, and more silence when they hit their route. Lucy knew why she was inclined to be quiet. It was her best attempt at boundaries at the moment. Couldn't talk about timers or soulmates if you couldn't talk, she thought drily. No matter her own reasons, she had no idea why Tim persisted in staying mum as well. He usually would've quizzed her by this point of the morning; constructed some bogus rescue scenario or something, asked her how she'd handle it, and then proceed to tell her exactly why she was wrong for the choices she made afterwards. But he didn't. She said nothing, and he said nothing, and no one said anything until they got their first call directing them to a bank.

"A robbery?" she asked after he responded to dispatch.

"Don't think so," he replied. "Didn't sound urgent enough."

She wondered what could occur at a bank that required police presence, but didn't demand urgency… however, she wasn't about to ask.

Because that meant talking, and they weren't doing that right now.

The arrived to encounter a frantic branch manager who informed them an employee had been trapped inside an ATM since the night before. Brief investigation showed the employee was already showing signs of hypoxia, so rather than waste precious, life-saving minutes waiting for the fire department, Lucy was sent out to get the Halligan tool to break him out. She'd come in ready to break down the barrier herself when Tim wrested the tool out of her hands before she could object.

All she could think about as he hammered at the the ATM was his gunshot wound. There was no way it was healed enough for him to exert himself like this, but what could she do? If she interrupted him, it would look like she was undermining him. No matter how angry she was at him at this moment, she didn't actually relish the thought of making him look bad.

There was nothing she could do but wait until he realized his own limitations, and hope that he had enough sense to overcome his pride when that moment came.

Eventually he hesitated and looked at Lucy. "Why am I the one doing this?" he said, and it was the cue she was waiting for.

She took the Halligan and got to work. After five good, solid strikes, she'd made a decent-sized hole in the paneling, enough so that the man trapped inside pressed his face to the opening and breathed the fresh air into his lungs in gulps. Her arms sagged in relief. The worker wouldn't suffocate and the LAFD would be here soon to finish getting him out. Tragedy averted, if only barely. A win.

She turned around to look at Tim, one eyebrow cocked in a silent "oh my gosh, did you see that" sort of way, but his eyes were glazed over and his hand was pressed to his ribs. The moment he noticed her looking, he dropped his hand to his side and straightened. Tim caught her eyes and shook his head slightly. She got his message loud and clear. Don't point it out. Don't say a word.

Who was he expecting her to tell, she wondered. There was only the two of them here that even knew he'd been hurt, and she wasn't about to report it to Grey and suffer her TO's ire for who knew how long. So she turned away and pretended like she hadn't seen a thing as she took the Halligan back to the shop.

They didn't leave the bank until handing off to the fire department, and even then, Lucy took it slow. Tim hadn't said how much using the tool had aggravated his injury, but she saw it in his posture, in how his breathing hitched when he moved the wrong way. Seeing how uncomfortable he was, she asked if she could complete the handoff while he waited outside, and dressed it up as being for the "learning experience" to save him some face. He eyed her suspiciously, trying to figure out her angle, but acquiesced without a fight.

When she returned to the shop, Lucy was going to suggest a break. Not for her, of course. For Tim. She'd only frame it as being for her so he could pretend like he wasn't hurt, like he hadn't popped a stitch or two already from being too active on his first day back. Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance. By the time she sat herself down in the passenger seat, they'd received another call and were on the move again.

The second call was pretty straightforward; an overnight burglary at a solar panel factory. A couple hundred dollars worth of materials had gone missing after someone had left one of the trucks unlocked. It was what they called a "cold burglary". There wasn't much they could do for the owner except calm him down and give him a contact card, after which point Lucy excused herself to use the restroom.

After a fiasco involving her belt and gun (she should've realized immediately Tim had taken it), he received a call on his cell phone, interrupting him mid-rant. In an instant, his tone shifted. Normally he could pause a lecture and pick up where he left off without missing a beat after being interrupted. That didn't happen this time. Whatever was said by the person on the other line scared him. He just turned to her, shoved the belt in her direction, and ordered her to get in the car.

He didn't tell her where he was going until he pulled into the hospital parking lot.

"Do I need to come with?" she asked.

"Don't care," he said before slamming his door behind him. She followed, feeling unease grow in the pit of her stomach with every step.

Tim walked into the ER -ran, was more like it- with her a few paces behind, and had just approached the nurse's station when Isabel trudged out of a room, looking rougher than she had the first time Lucy saw her. If it were possible for her to look more pale, she did, and now her skin had an unnatural sheen to the point it almost appeared waxy. Her arms crossed over her chest, folding close to her body as she tried to control trembling. Lucy could tell what had happened -and why Tim was called- just by glancing her way. The feeling in her gut increased, worry and dread for both Isabel and Tim like a heavy weight in her stomach.

He went to his wife at once, reaching out to her like he had in the parking lot the first day of Lucy's training. The reaction he received was the same. For all the love Tim still had for Isabel, she wanted none of it. Dragging her back into the triage room, Lucy could hear as Tim tried to reason with her, but it soon become apparent his pleas were falling on deaf ears. It ended with both of them yelling, drawing the eyes of all the nurses and a few patients before Isabel stormed out again, leaving Tim in the room alone.

Lucy walked in just in time to see his fist go through the wall.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He glared at her and didn't answer.

"What happened?" She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, approaching Tim slowly. Even if she had somehow missed the outburst with Isabel, she could tell from the way he was breathing, the redness creeping up his neck that he was at a breaking point. Both of his hands were clenched into fists at his sides; the right had lacerations on his knuckles, tiny cuts from where he'd punched it through the drywall.

Forgetting herself for a second, she reached for his hand to examine it. She had just taken hold of his wrist when he pulled away.

"Don't touch me, Lucy," he said at once, but she noticed that he didn't sound angry. At least, not angry with her. In fact, he didn't even look it, despite having sounded both mad and desperate with Isabel just moments before. Now he just looked hurt. Afraid.

And tired. So, so tired.

He'd also just called her Lucy for the first time. Not Chen, not Boot. That was important to her somehow, a moment she wanted to honor as significant, but she knew pointing it out wouldn't help Tim now. She stored it away, determined to think on it more later.

For the present, there was not much she could do except wait with him until he was calmer. It only took a few minutes for his breathing to even out the rest of the way, for his fists to unclench. She found a few bandaids in a cabinet for the worst of his scrapes. He could have easily put the bandages on himself, but he let her apply them. She did her best to be gentle with him, figuring he could use a little gentleness no matter how upset she'd been with him yesterday and this morning.

It had so far been rare that she had the chance or reason to touch him, but she still felt heat when she did. It had dulled significantly since the first day, though she couldn't say why that was. She wondered if it would disappear completely. Nolan never mentioned feeling the sensations he felt when he first saw Grace after their initial meeting. Neither had her father. But her mother, she knew, sometimes still shivered around her father. When his hand touched hers at the dinner table; when he met her eyes from across a crowded room.

Time would have to tell, Lucy guessed. For now, Tim's hands under hers felt like sitting under the sun at noon in summer. As long as she was touching him, she was warmed from head to toe.

It turned out the day being kind or unkind to them was not the problem. The problem was Tim. He either didn't know how to give himself a break, or he didn't want to.

The latter was the more likely scenario.

The calm he'd found after his latest encounter with Isabel had only managed to last a short while. It dissipated when dispatch directed them to a biker bar on their beat. Lucy's initial hope was that he'd ask for another unit to be assigned, but that proved to be a pipe dream. She suggested calling for backup, only to be met with a hardened smile from her TO.

"And where's the fun in that?" he asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out.

Within seconds someone had thrown a beer bottle in their direction, the shards bursting in every direction from only a few feet in front of Tim. Her hand flew to her taser as she looked at him, waiting to see what he'd do.

"Oh, that's just sad," Tim snarked at the bikers. "Either you're man enough to come at me, or you're not."

What?

"Now, who needs a felony?" Considering what he was asking, Tim sounded almost cheerful. It sent a chill up Lucy's spine.

You've gotta be kidding me."What are you doing?" she said to him through clenched teeth. She was tempted to call for backup herself and drag him back to the shop by his collar, but she had no time. A prospect in the club -Jordan, the other bikers called him as they cheered him on and jeered at the cops- had thrown another bottle at Tim, aiming for his head this time. Then he charged.

The fight was brutal, with both sides landing huge blows. Tim took a knee to his torso a few times. Lucy winced seeing it, fearful of what fresh trauma could do to his gunshot wound. He was still healing, no matter how cavalier he was behaving both now and earlier. She wanted to intervene, but they were outnumbered, and this was a fight Tim had picked. There was nothing for Lucy to do except watch and hold her ground even as a handful of the other bikers began to approach her at a slow pace.

She switched sides on her belt, moving her hand from her taser to her gun just before Tim got Jordan onto his stomach and cuffed him up. With the fight over, the rest of the gang fell back, leaving Lucy free to take the biker from Tim.

Just in time, too, she thought as he called in the arrest. He had cuts above and under his eye, his lip was bloody, and those were just the injuries Lucy could see.

She had questions. A lot of them. Questions likewhat the fuckandhow dare you.But all she asked him was, "What the hell was that?"

His answer was textbook Tim. "Patrol work, Boot. You planning on saying otherwise?"

If he kept doing this? Probably. She didn't love the idea of having to turn in her training officer for being reckless, but it was better than one or both of them dying.

For now, she said, "No sir", and left it at that. But she wouldn't let it go so easily, no matter what he expected from her.

Lucy was relieved to see Bishop and Nolan in booking when they returned to the precinct. She processed the biker herself (even though Tim was the one who had made the arrestandstarted the fight that preceded it), then grabbed Nolan for a quick talk in the next room.

She launched into her concerns without preamble. "I'm worried about Tim," she began. "He picked a fight with a biker, then wouldn't let me call for back up. He could've gotten us both killed. I don't know what's going on with him. Like, is he just destructive? Is he trying to prove himself?"

"Maybe he came back too soon," Nolan offered.

"Maybe," Lucy agreed. Her mind flashed to the image of Tim taking hits to his stomach, knowing they landed close to his injury, if not directly on it. "But it's not just physical. He's got a lot of personal stuff going on and he's not handling it well at all."

"Personal stuff? Like you?"

She hadn't wanted to say so, but, "Yeah. Like me. But also his wife. It's really… Nolan, you have no idea how fucked up this whole thing is. I don't know how to help him, and even if I did, I doubt he'd let me."

"Well, you can't just do nothing, right? You said he could've gotten you killed," he pointed out.

That was true. "Yes, but… he's my TO. I'm not going to narc on him. He needs help, not disciplined, and if I elevate this at all…" she trailed off, knowing exactly how he'd respond if he knew she was talking to Nolan, or if she went as far as to bring it to Sergeant Grey's attention.

"He'd never forgive you."

She sighed. "No. He probably wouldn't."

"I hate to say it, Lucy, but it's going to have to be you."

That was what she was afraid of. "It's not gonna go well."

Nolan nodded. He knew it wouldn't, but was right to point out, "What other choice do you have?"

No one else knew how deep in it he was. Since no one else knew, there was no one else who could talk Tim off of this ledge. In all likeliness, she would probably still fail.

She was just the one that stood the best shot of getting through to him.

She caught up to Tim as he was picking up NARCAN from the quartermaster and knew immediately where they were headed. Still, she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. See if he'd be honest with her. She felt like she'd earned a little honesty from him by now.

As they walked back to the garage, she ventured to ask, "Do we really need all that?"

Just tell me the truth.she prayed silently.

Just say we're taking it to Isabel.

Please, Tim. Tell me the truth.

He didn't look at her as he replied. "Bad batch of fentanyl making the rounds out there. Need to be prepared."

She sighed.Dammit.She was so disappointed, and that was only half of what she felt.

The other half of her was absolutely livid.

This was bad. Really, really bad. Maybe worse than she'd anticipated if he was willing to lie to her and steal supplies from the department in order to feel like he was making progress towards saving his wife.

As they drove, she tried to plan her course of action. None of her options were easy. If she confronted him about the NARCAN and his plans for it, he could either deny it or pull rank. If she said nothing, he'd enable Isabel unchecked and the vicious cycle between the two of them would continue.

Either way, she wouldn't be reporting Tim. No matter what she did today, she was in this with him whether he wanted her to be or not.

The place he took them to was well off their usual beat. He parked the shop in the lot of an older apartment complex, a short walk away from a large pink unit lined with rusted railings and dingy windows. Lucy wanted to bury her nose in her sleeve at the pungent smell of weed smoke, making its way into the vehicle even with the doors and windows closed.

"Stay here," Tim ordered before getting out.

Once he'd left, she started to psych herself up for the impossible job ahead of her. She had to confront him.Hadto. There was no other option. She had to confront him, no matter how angry he got, and deal with it from there. It was the right call for him, and for Isabel. Tim was just too close to the situation and couldn't see it. She said all of these things to herself, muttering it under a breath before summoning all her bravery and opening the door.

He yelled at her the second she stepped out of the shop.

"I said, stay in the car!"

"I know what you're doing here," she began, hoping she sounded stronger than she felt at the moment. "You're not helping Isabel. You're enabling her."

His face fell for a second as he realized she'd determined the real reason he grabbed more NARCAN, but quickly hardened with anger. "Oh, and you know everything because you're some shrink's kid? She's going to shoot up! That's the reality, but this," he held up the box, "this will save her life."

She continued on with her speech as if he hadn't said a word. That was a little trick she learned from him; not departing from the main point of the lecture even after being interrupted. "Addiction doesn't just destroy the addict. It destroys the family." It felt cliche to say it aloud, and her voice shook on every word, but she got it out and was satisfied after having said that much.

"Who the hell are you to tell me this?"

"I'm your rookie, and I need you totrainme. Not put me in danger, not make me complicit in supporting your wife's addiction. This stunt here? Or the one with the biker today? You've been back on the job for one day and I'm already having to cover your ass because the moment you so much as think about Isabel, you spiral."

He was furious, that much was clear, but she was undeterred. He wouldn't -couldn't- contradict her. She was confident of that. He knew she was right.

She chanced one step in his direction. When he didn't move, she took another, and another until she was close enough to touch him. Not that she did; she just reached for the NARCAN. "I'll take it to her. If you go up, it'll just make things worse." Although for him, for herself, or for Isabel, Lucy wasn't quite sure.

"Apartment 510," he bit out after a long pause. It wasn't quite permission, but it was the closest she was probably going to get; she'd take it.

Lucy had seen worse apartments already on this job. On the scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being nice and 10 being a literal dumpster, this one was a solid 6. Not the grossest, but closer to it than she felt comfortable with.

She knocked on the door. After a few seconds, it was opened just enough for Isabel to catch a glance of her uniform and badge before she slammed it shut again.

"You can't come in without a warrant!" she yelled through the door.

"Isabel, my name is Lucy Chen. Tim Bradford is my TO and he sent me up here." No sound from the other side. She continued. "If you don't give me five minutes, he's going to come up here himself." When she again heard nothing, she added, "It's really best for all of us if you let me in."

After another moment or two of hesitation, Isabel opened the door.

"What do you want?" she asked after reluctantly letting Lucy inside.

She went no farther than four feet from the doorway, and that was as far as she needed to go to nearly get knocked over by the smell of cigarettes and whiskey. The apartment itself wasn't in horrible shape. Nothing like the pictures of drug dens she'd seen in the academy. It looked almost like a home, but the smell and drug paraphernalia on counters and end tables kept that illusion from ever materializing.

"Your husband got shot recently," Lucy began, though she couldn't begin to say why. This isn't what she came for… but, since she'd already started, she asked, "Did you know that? He took a bullet when we got ambushed. It was really scary."

Concern passed over Isabel's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, shoved down easily.

"Really? Because, he seemed fine earlier."

Oh, so being dismissive was a trait she and Tim shared. How cute.

With a roll of her eyes, Lucy set the NARCAN down on the coffee table. "NARCAN. Won't get you clean, just reverses the effect of an O.D."

Isabel was unimpressed by Lucy's explanation. "I know what NARCAN is. I spent a decade using it on junkies."

Wait, what? "You were a nurse?"

"No. A cop." A beat followed where she eyed Lucy with disbelief, then she asked, "Tim didn't tell you?"

No, shockingly Tim hadn't mentioned his wife being a cop between their impromptu visit to the hospital, fighting with bikers, and stealing medicine from the LAPD. "He doesn't really talk about you."

Isabel paused as she took this news in. "Good," she said, even though she stammered over it. "That's good." Her fingers tapped an anxious dance across the top of the cardboard box as her eyes shifted from the NARCAN, a pair of boots in the middle of the floor, and Lucy. NARCAN, boots, Lucy. NARCAN, boots, Lucy.

"So, uh," she began as she put the NARCAN back on the coffee table and picked up a carton of cigarettes. She withdrew one before speaking again. "If my count was right, Tim's timer has probably gone off by now." She lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag, then exhaling a cloud that didn't totally conceal her sad smile. "He didn't want me calculating it, but I did it anyway. I bet he's happy." She looked back at Lucy. "Is he happy, Officer Chen?

For her part, Lucy was stunned. "I, um… I don't know, He said he doesn't believe in the timers. Or soulmates."

Isabel laughed like that was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "What a dick," she said, shaking her head. "He's a liar, you know. He used to say that to make me happy. He promised nothing would change when it went off, and I believed him. Not that I left it up to him in the end, though." She took another deep drag off the cigarette, the ember end sizzling with her inhale. "So what's she like. Is she nice?"

"I… haven't met her." It was the answer she felt safest giving; conceding that she was correct about his timer while not offering any details of his match. Saying that she hadn't met her wasn't her proudest moment, but it was technically true. She hadn't met her because shewasher, but she wasn't about to tell Isabel that. Even though she tried to sound blithe about Tim's timer, Lucy could tell this was a deep, persistent wound that Isabel was working through, and she wanted to be mindful of that. She had no desire to hurt her more by revealing herself to be the woman in question.

Taking pilfered NARCAN from your husband's soulmate would probably be hard for anyone to recover from.

"Tell him," Isabel paused to exhale, her face briefly obscured by another cloud of smoke, "tell him he can't come back here."

Lucy couldn't imagine herself delivering that kind of news, but she saw how serious Isabel was. Her eyes bored into Lucy's, looking for honesty. "Okay. I'll tell him," she replied.

Isabel was not convinced. "I mean it, Chen. You tell him to stay away." She leaned back against the couch cushions and flicked the ash off of her cigarette onto the carpet under her feet. "There's no future here."

She needed a minute. A minute to gather herself, to regain her composure. Find her bearings. But a minute, she just didn't have. Not while she was standing outside of Isabel's apartment, with music blaring nearby and Tim watching her anxiously through the windshield. She could feel his eyes even from here.

He didn't press her for information once she returned to the shop, waiting until she was ready to speak. It wasn't typical for him to wait. She knew then there was probably a part of him that didn't want to know.

"Her apartment is pretty decent," she offered, but decided to hold back certain details. The stench of liquor. The ash on the carpet.

A man's boots in the middle of the living room floor.

Tim nodded, looking visibly relieved. "Good. That's good."

"Yeah. Um…" She hesitated to mention what Isabel said about his timer, knowing bringing it up could potentially cause a fight, but her curiosity won out in the end. "She asked about your timer. Said you must've zeroed out by now. She wanted to know what your soulmate is like."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her that I hadn't met her." When his brow furrowed, Lucy felt like she had to defend herself. "I didn't want to hurt her." He didn't appear impressed with her fudging, so she added, "Besides, it shouldn't matter who your soulmate is since you don't believe in it." She didn't mention that Isabel called him a liar about saying the timers didn't matter. She wanted to think about it more before she brought it up.

Ifshe ever brought it up.

He nodded, eventually conceding she made the right call. "I never counted the date out myself," he admitted. "She must've figured it out when I wasn't paying attention."

"You really didn't know the date?" she asked.

He glanced down at his left wrist only briefly. "I forced myself to stop looking once I met Isabel. Once it looked like things were going to be a little more permanent. It just didn't seem to matter anymore."

For some reason, that hurt her. Hearing him say that it didn't matter reminded Lucy that they'd both spent the better part of two decades regarding their timers with very different feelings. Not that she'd ever forgotten, but she was constantly being reminded in some way or another, and that? That was beginning to wear on her. She inhaled sharply, feeling tears prick her eyes. To her surprise, Tim almost appeared remorseful as his head bent forward, leaning so low he was nearly resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

"I didn't mean it like that, Chen. I just… I wanted so badly for it to work with Isabel." Well, that much Lucy had guessed on her own. "Did she tell you she wouldn't let me remove it?" He paused, waiting for her to reply. When she didn't (because what could she possibly say to that), he said, "I think she convinced herself it was romantic in some weird, fucked up way. That me having a soulmate out there somewhere and still choosing her made our relationship mean more."

"She didn't mention that." Again, she was resolved to hold back what Isabel had actually said; in this case, how she'd demanded Lucy tell Tim to stay away. What would have been the point? It would only hurt him, and he probably wouldn't listen anyway.

For the first time since she'd gotten back in the car, Tim managed to look at Lucy. It was guarded, nervous; she was tempted to call it shy. "Thanks for going up there," he said. "I, um… I know that probably wasn't easy for you."

It wasn't, but it was likely easier for her than for him. Recognizing what he meant, though, and appreciating that he acknowledged how difficult it was for her, she replied, "Isabel's important to you." It was all the explanation she offered, and he asked no more of her.

Their shift stretched into the night, with all of Lucy's hopes of an easy day for Tim's sake well and truly dashed for good when they found themselves in pursuit of a group of cosplaying robbers. They'd come to assist Nolan and Bishop and ended up chasing one of the criminals into an alley, where they both got out of the shop to continue the pursuit on foot.

All things considered, the chase was brief. The suspect fired in their direction, which sent her pulse racing but also gave them a good idea of where he was hiding. She was less worried for her own safety than Tim's at this point, knowing that a display of violence this early in a confrontation didn't bode well.

"He's trapped behind this truck," Tim whispered to Lucy after the criminal sent a second spray of bullets in their direction. He glanced around, then up, assessing the best way forward. "If I go over the trailer, I'll come out on top of him." Even as he said it, he grimaced, like he was dreading the exertion necessary to complete such a task.

"I should go," she offered at once. When he cocked an eyebrow at her suggestion, she explained. "Improvisation is a useful tool for a rookie to learn." she stammered, sounding less assured than she'd wanted to, but hoping that Tim would see her offer for what it was: an excuse for him to stay grounded and avoid further injuries at no expense to his dignity.

"Fine. Okay. You passed tonight's test. Get your ass up there."

Once atop the truck, apprehending the man was easy. Aiming her gun at his leg, she ordered him to drop his weapon and get on his stomach. He complied at once. Tim rounded the truck with his gun raised, lowering it only when he bent to put handcuffs on the guy. When he looked up at Lucy again, there was a slight smirk on his face.

"What are you waiting for?" he teased. "Applause?"

She holstered her weapon before replying. "Actually, yeah. Applause would be nice."

Still crouched by the criminal, Tim made a show of clapping his hands slowly, three deliberate claps just like she had when he walked into roll call that morning.

"Is that the best you can do?" she asked.

"Why not? It's the best you did." he retorted.

Oh, so that wasn't a coincidence. He had seen her this morning. Moreover, he'd seen her and had noticed her lack of applause at his return.

He hadn't asked for an explanation, but still she found herself offering one. "Look. I was still pretty mad at you this morning, okay? And I didn't think you'd see."

Tim didn't respond for a few minutes; not until she was back on solid ground and not until after they got the robber into the back of their shop. Lucy had just shut the rear passenger door when he spoke again.

"Lucy."

She still wasn't used to hearing him call her by her first name. It sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth. Too casual, and familiar, like they were friends and not… whatever this was.

"That's twice now you haven't called me 'Chen' or 'Boot'." she pointed out. "If you keep it up, people might think you're getting soft."

She meant it as a weak attempt at levity, but he didn't seem to appreciate it. Hell, he didn't even acknowledge it.

"I can always see you, okay?" he said. "You should know by now that I can always see you."

All things considered, it was a fairly innocuous thing to say. Hardly some grand declaration and nothing really to get excited about, but there was something abouthowhe said it that gave Lucy pause; a certain look in his eyes, and tension in his body that made him stand as straight as a rod. Maybe she was desperate to derive subtext where there was none, but Lucy couldn't help but think, out of anyone else's mouth, such a statement delivered like that would almost be romantic.

She was quiet for long enough that it became uncomfortable. Soon, Tim shook his head, brushing off the weird energy that settled over them with an ease that she envied.

"Back in the shop, Boot," he ordered, the tenderness of moments ago gone in seconds. "We got a bad guy to book."

He was back in TO mode as quick as a snap, behaving as though nothing had happened, leaving Lucy alone in wondering what on earth he could have possibly meant bythat.

Chapter 6: The Chance to Choose and Be Chosen

Notes:

"Hold on
Not trying to put you on the shelf
But before I can love you
I need to learn to love myself"
- "Imperfections", Celine Dion

Chapter Text

"That marriage is going to last forever," Nolan said, ending a long and unnecessary story about a proposal he'd witnessed during one of his more recent shifts. The details had been long and winding enough that Lucy forgot how they'd ended up here. She'd been reading from the rook book, and suddenly Nolan was talking about a foot chase, a stolen urine sample, and a wedding ring.

The story sure was… something.

"Sorry, but I don't know if similar arrest records is as unifying an experience as you seem to think it is," she deadpanned, and even though she tried to force it back, she couldn't help but grin at the very end of her sentence.

After a second, Nolan laughed. "Yeah, no. You're probably right. At least it's a good proposal story."

"Not sure about 'good'," Lucy said, glancing down at her rook book again and turning the page. "Memorable, maybe. Definitely memorable."

"Well, isn't that the same thing?"

It wasn't, but having never been proposed to herself, it took her a second to articulate it. "Things that are memorable aren't always good, Nolan." She paused to drum up some examples, landing on one pretty quickly. "Like 'Twilight'? Right? Memorable, definitely, but not very good."

"Oh, are we talking about movies now?" Jackson interjected, returning to their study circle carrying three beers freshly opened from Nolan's fridge; one for each of them. "Star Wars. Memorable but not good." Both of his study mates disagreed vehemently, with Lucy making him take it back at the threat of violence. "Jeez, all right then. It's a matter of opinion."

"I guess you're entitled to your wrong opinion," Nolan conceded.

"Your deeply, deeply wrong opinion," Lucy added.

Jackson side-eyed Lucy hard. "You and I both know you only liked the sequels because of Adam Driver."

When she tried to deny it, both men shushed her.

"You admitted as much in our group chat," Jackson exclaimed. "I have receipts! Horrible,graphicreceipts."

"He's right. Personally, I will never be able to look at red lightsabers the same way ever again thanks to you," Nolan said over him.

Lucy pretended to be offended. "If talking about Adam Driver's impressive upper body is a crime, then you can lock me up." When both of the guys groaned, she added, "The man is built like Hercules and I am not sorry for saying so."

"So… that's your type then?" Jackson asked. "Tall, dark, and god-like, and not…"

When he trailed off, Nolan picked up his train of thought, joking, "Tall, blond, and marginally less god-like?"

"I'm not sure about that 'marginally less' nonsense, Nolan," Jackson hedged. "I mean, Bradford's eyes are pretty blue."

That comment clearly confused Nolan, his brow wrinkling as he looked at Lucy. "Is that a thing? About blue eyes?"

She sighed, shooting Jackson a look before reluctantly explaining. "Kind of. You have your hot guys, you have your hot guys who have blue eyes, and you have your guys who have blue eyes. Basically what Jackson is alluding to is, 'is so-and-so hot, or are his eyes just blue'. And look, I'm not going to pretend like Tim is not conventionally attractive." When Jackson pretended to be shocked, she laughed. "Stop it. He's really handsome, ok? And yes, he also has really, really blue eyes."

"Ok buthowblue?"

"Jackson," Nolan pretended to scold, but he was teasing. Mostly.

"What? I want details!" He looked back at Lucy. "On a scale of Hemsworth to Pine, how blue are we talking here?"

"I don't know if I should answer that particular question," she said, making a show of hesitating for just a second or two before deciding, "Okay, fine. On a scale of Hemsworth to Pine, Tim is a… Chris Evans." When her answer was met with mocking whoops and hollers from both of her friends, she exclaimed, "Can we please, please focus now? Tim quizzes me on everything and if I have to study, you guys have to study."

Nolan looked at Jackson. "Who made that rule?"

"I don't know but that's a shitty rule," Jackson added before taking a sip of his beer.

Ignoring them, Lucy looked down at her rook book and read aloud. "Anyway, what are the descriptors of a firearm?"

There was a pause as both Jackson and Nolan thought about her question.

"Serial number, maker's name, model, caliber or gauge." A moment passed while he tried to recall the rest of the list. "Um… color of metal."

Nolan smirked. "Length of barrel." He finished the list with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows.

Lucy scoffed, pretending to be disgusted, but couldn't help but laugh in spite of herself.

"Oh, I forgot to ask. How's it been going with Tim?" Jackson asked, and for his efforts received a moan. "That bad?"

"Not bad, just not great." Not bad, as in, nobody had gotten shot lately. Hurray. Strange baseline to have, but there it was. Not great because of, well… everything else. Although his first day back had ended on an almost-nice note, it wasn't enough to undo the shit from earlier, and all subsequent days on the job had been pretty straight-forward and by the book.

She still didn't know exactly what he meant byI always see you, and enough time had passed that she wasn't sure how to ask.

"You want to talk about it?" Nolan asked.

"Not really," Lucy replied, looking first at him, then at Jackson. "It's just hard. It's going to be hard for a while. And I'm trying to be okay with that." Then, she added with what she hoped with a coaxing smile, "It'll be easier to be okay if we stopped talking about him and studied so I don't flunk out of the program."

"You? Flunk out?" Jackson pshawed at the idea. "Not likely, Lucy."

Nolan agreed. "Yeah, if anyone is going to flunk out, it's probably going to be-"

"-Don't even say it," she interrupted, shushing him before he could say another word. "None of us are going to flunk out. I'm sorry for even joking about it. Now, can we please study so we can crush tomorrow?"

Jackson looked at Nolan, then at Lucy. "I'm confused. Is tomorrow distinct somehow?"

"Not at all," she said, looking back at the rook book, running one finger down the information as she read it over. "Just another day where I train with Tim Bradford."

Tim Bradford, her tall, blond, god-like (she wouldn't delude herself with qualifiers like "marginally less") TO/soulmate.

It turned out that Lucy needn't have studied so vigorously, because the next day, Sergeant Grey decided to switch things up. He put the rookies with different training officers, giving them the added assignment of unearthing intel about their new TOs over the course of the next shift. She tried not to let it rattle her because, after all, changing plans was the watch commander's prerogative, but Lucy would really have liked to prepare. To plan. A heads up of even an hour or so would've been nice.

Not that she'd ever say that to him or Captain Andersen. She'd get laughed at or dismissed immediately, if not laughed atanddismissed.

Standing at the kit counter with the other rookies, they tried to suss out what to expect from the other training officers. She had tons of information on Tim but was careful to play it close to the vest. Not just because she wanted to win the extra day off (she desperately needed a pedicure and a massage) and telling Jackson info about Tim would give him an advantage, but more importantly, the majority of the things she knew weren't her secrets to tell. If he wanted to know something about Officer Bradford, he'd have to do the digging on his own.

Nolan had similar walls up about Talia, so she made little headway there as they gathered their supplies for the day. Oh well. At least they'd all be starting out with the same level playing field.

As she turned away from the the counter and headed toward the garage, she was surprised to see Tim waiting next to one of the shops. Waiting for Jackson, she figured, but then he came and talked to her as she began to unload her and Talia's supplies.

"Bishop's a good officer," he said to her as she placed the gear in the trunk. "You pay close attention to what she does, okay? She won't steer you wrong."

"Yes, sir," she replied, figuring that would be the extent of their conversation.

Tim wasn't done, though. "Don't give her sass like you do me. She won't be as nice as I am."

That made her pause. She looked over at him, eyes narrowed. "With all due respect, sir, I do not give you 'sass'. I understand the inherent hierarchy at work between a rookie and her training officer."

"Uh huh. Sure," he replied, sounding unconvinced. Then he said, "Just be careful out there, okay?" All his bravado from moments ago briefly dropped as he made this request of her.

She was more than a little confused at this about-face from him; once again, he'd managed to change his tone so quickly, speaking to her plainly, naturally, and without any of his token gruffness all on the turn of a dime. It kind of gave her whiplash. Lucy wanted to point it out, but though better of it.

Instead, she asked, "Are you checking up on me, sir?"

His brow furrowed. "No. No, absolutely not." This denial was followed up with a somewhat less forceful, "Shut up." Before she could respond to him, Talia called for Lucy.

"Chen." Already, Officer Bishop sounded displeased, and Lucy was uncertain why. They hadn't even left the garage yet. Her opportunities to disappoint Talia were comically low at this point in the day. "If you are done flirting, I'd like to get on the road now," she finished flatly.

Well, that would be why she sounded pissed. In an instant, Lucy felt her cheeks go bright red with embarrassment. "I… Ma'am, I wasn't."

"Bishop, that was out of line," Tim rebuked her, his voice stern.

For her part, Talia appeared unfazed. "Looked pretty in line from where I stand, Bradford." Once more, her eyes landed on Lucy. "Boot. Driver's seat. Now." She shot another glare at Tim even as she only addressed the rookie officer, and "Don't make me repeat myself," was the last thing she said before climbing into the passenger's side and slamming the door.

The drive out was quiet. Awkward. Heavy with a tension she could slice with a knife. Talia had so far not tried to break it, and the scenarios Lucy rehearsed in her head all felt lacking somehow. Still, the dead air was getting unbearable, so she ventured to break it, opening with just half a sentence.

"Look, uh-"

"Save it."

She tried not to be deterred, but it was hard when Talia was, apparently, already determined not to hear her out. "I just wanted to-"

"Don't. I'm not a slot machine, Chen. Can't put a quarter in me and get advice out." She looked at her only peripherally. "I told you what I think you need to do about Bradford during your rookie year, and I'm not going to say more on the subject."

"… I wasn't going to ask you for advice," Lucy said.

Talia didn't seem so sure. "Oh, you weren't?"

"No." Her grip tightened on the wheel as she planned what to say next. "I was just going to say, Officer Bradford and I weren't flirting."

"Oh, I never said he was flirting with you, Boot. Bradford's been around the block a few times now. He knows how to toe the line." She left enough of a pause that Lucy brightened for half a second, before ending with, "I saidyouwere flirting with him."

Lucy cheeks burned with fresh blushing, just like they had that morning in the garage. "No I wasn't." she mumbled.

"Mmmhmmm." Once again, Talia was less than convinced.

Lucy dug her heels in, though, determined to defend herself. "Ma'am, Officer Bradford has expressed to me multiple times that he does not believe in timers or soulmates, and I respect that. I know for a fact he is still committed to his wife. I would never question your judgment normally, but I believe what you may have been seeing was camaraderie between teammates. Not," she hesitated to say the word out loud, but eventually bit out, "flirting."

"Uh huh. We'll see," was all Talia said in response.

The quiet once more resumed, broken only when Lucy pointed out an expired tag on a vehicle in front of them. The vehicle in question was wanted for a hit-and-run, but the second Lucy got the lights going, the driver and his passengers all bolted from the vehicle.

What followed was a chaotic failure on Lucy's part. First she neglected to apprehend the driver per Officer Bishop's instructions. Instead, she tackled and cuffed a hitchhiker who was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Since they had no legal reason to detain him, he had to be cut loose, and they were left with nothing.

If the silence before was heavy, now it was unbearable.

She tried to apologize. "You told me to detain the driver, and I failed to do so. It won't happen again, ma'am."

Talia didn't even look at her. Just kept her gaze focused at the window as she murmured a non committal, "Sure."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe that as much as I believe you when you say you weren't flirting with Bradford this morning." Talia looked at her. "How's that, Boot?"

"We were not flirting." she insisted for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Are you familiar with the phrase 'the lady doth protest too much'?"

She tried not to look offended, but she was, and it made her bristle. "Tim is my training officer. Insinuating that our working relationship isn't totally above board can get him and I both in a lot of trouble."

Of course, Talia already knew that. "So it's not so much that you think I'm wrong, it's that you just don't want to get caught. Is that it, Officer Chen?"

"No, ma'am."

Talia seemed unimpressed with Lucy's answer. "Boot, you have a fundamental misunderstanding of what's happening here. Being a cop is the hardest thing you'll ever do. Instead of focusing on the job, putting all your effort toward being the best officer you can be, what are you doing? Getting hung up on Tim. Betting your entire future on a stopwatch." She scoffed, unimpressed. "The city is littered with the failed potential of rookies like you."

"Ma'am, with all due respect, there are no other rookies like me."

Talia rolled her eyes. "You think you're the first rookie to catch feelings for her training officer? Please. You are not that special." She looked out the window again. "The only ones who make it through the program are the ones who are so serious, they put everything else aside. Is that something you're prepared to do?"

She wanted so badly to insist otherwise, to decry the accusation (baseless or not) that she had feelings for Tim. They were soulmates (which Lucy still believed in, no matter what Tim said) and that created a connection between them that she couldn't shake. Despite that, during all of her interactions with Tim, the majority of them were unpleasant. Usually one of them ended up angry, if not both. It was hardly the ideal recipe for a person to "catch feelings". But she was getting nowhere by pleading. Talia could not be convinced she was wrong, and Lucy was wasting her breath and energy trying to get her to see differently. So, she clutched the steering wheel tighter, clenched her teeth, and conceded with a stoic, "Yes, ma'am."

Of all the things Lucy expected to hear from the passenger seat, a heavy sigh was not one of them.

"Look, Boot," Talia began, speaking with more compassion and patience than she'd used previously. "I'm typically a one-and-done on life advice, but you clearly need my help so I'm going to make an exception." Then she removed her watch, set it aside and showed Lucy her forearm.

Lucy looked and was stunned to see not a timer, but a raised line running horizontally across her skin, from edge to edge of her wrist. It was, she realized after a moment, a scar. A rather long scar, though quite thin. It was no thicker than a hair tie except for two circles on either end.

"The circles are from the bolts," Talia explained. "Cheaper model, sort of clunky. Required additional support to get it to stick."

"You… you had a timer? And got it removed?" Lucy asked in disbelief.

Talia nodded. "Installed at eighteen. Removed at twenty. Only got it in the first place because everyone I knew was getting one, and you know how peer pressure can be." As she reaffixed her watch, she explained further. "I decided pretty young that I was not about to trust my life to a countdown. No one was going to determine my future except me. But you?" She looked at Lucy. "You've been living life according on a clock for, what? Ten years now?"

Lucy looked away. "Fourteen," she admitted quietly.

"You spent fourteen years looking forward to the future, only to be disappointed by it once you got there. I don't have to tell you that's no way to live your life. I think you've seen that for yourself."

She was right. Lucy didn't want to admit it, but Talia was right. What had zeroing out brought her but heartache in varying degrees, punctuated by only the briefest glimmers of… what? She couldn't call it hope. Not when she had none that she would actually end up with her long-awaited soulmate. Happiness didn't fit the bill either. Simply put, the only thing she'd gotten from it that was positive (and even then, only briefly) was a scant handful of momentary rushes. She got that high of first zeroing out at midnight, then of seeing Tim from across the room, and hearing the chimes as her timer went off. Almost every moment since had basically paled in comparison with that first meeting when she still thought it was going to be the start of something. Back when she thought a new chapter was beginning, not realizing she had barged into a story -into a life- that was already in-progress and appeared to have no room nor desire for her presence.

It was a relief when a call from dispatch disrupted their conversation and gave Lucy a break from contemplating, even though the details sounded pretty intense as it came through. A young girl claimed she was being held against her will in a parking lot. They were the closest unit and arrived on the scene only a few minutes later, pulling up to find a film crew and trailer in the lot. Upon exiting the shop, Bishop was approached first by one of the men on the crew.

"Got a call. A young girl said she was being held here. Is that true?"

The man explained it was the girl in the trailer, Sarah, who must have made the call. "She's holdingushostage," he said, a bit blustery. "Every minute she refuses to come out is money lost."

Lucy was happy to take a backseat to the call, watching Officer Bishop as she navigated the delicate scenario. Dealing with children required compassion and balance, as she could never be seen yielding her authority for a second. Talia spoke to the child firmly, but not unkindly. In every moment of her interactions first with the child and then with Sarah's foster mother, Talia exemplified poise and strength. She was the kind of cop everyone should admire. As she thought back to their conversation from earlier, Lucy realized that Talia was the kind of cop she wanted to be. Thorough, but compassionate. Conscious of the law, but equally considerate to the human condition.

Tim had been right to tell Lucy to watch her closely. Officer Bishop wasgood.

Even though watching Talia work was both informative and inspiring, Lucy couldn't help but feel relieved when the day finally ended. The impressive way Talia handled Sarah's call aside, she could only handle so much of her quiet scrutiny in one day. She'd gladly take 12 hours of Tim's incessant grilling over Talia's insightfulness. It was somehow less fatiguing.

"I don't know how I'm going to make it through tomorrow," Lucy complained over dinner with Nolan that night.

"You? What about Jackson? What's Tim going to do to him?" Nolan asked, referring to the news that Jackson had frozen on the job during firefights not once, but twice. So far, that secret had only traveled as far as the training officers and the other rookies, but if it wasn't handled soon, it was bound to get out. They were both worried about what it might mean for their friend's career, although Lucy was a little more confident in her assigned TO's abilities to help him.

Going off of what little she knew about Tim, she ventured to guess, "Tim won't throw Jackson under the bus." When Nolan made a sound that signified he wasn't so sure, she amended. "All right, he's calculating, I'll give you that. But he doesn't go out of his way to be cruel. He doesn't actually want anyone to fail, he just wants everyone to prove themselves." She thought a second more, smirking a little as she decided, "He'll probably take it as a challenge. That sounds like something he'd do." She paused only long enough to take a sip of her wine before barreling on with barely a breath to spare. "Did I tell you Talia would not stop saying I was flirting with Tim? Me? Flirting? With Tim? As if I would ever do that."

"Yes, she's surely seeing things."

His sarcasm might have been overlooked if she were just a few more glasses in, but being that the night was still young, Lucy picked up on it immediately. "Okay. What's that supposed to mean?"

Nolan sighed, preparing to level with her. "Lucy, you've only been here an hour and you've talked about Tim fifteen times."

"That can't possibly be an accurate count."

He held up his phone, showing that a row of 1's had been surreptitiously typed into the notepad on the screen. "I've been keeping tally. Well, to be fair, I brought him up one of those times," he deleted one mark, "but still. Fourteen."

Oh.

Well, damn.

"Crap," she said.

Nolan put his phone down. "You want to talk about it."

"Are you…" she hesitated, trying to figure out his angle, "are you asking me or telling me?"

"Luce." His smile was good-natured. Whatever came out of his mouth next, he was being gentle as a preemptive measure. "You mentioned the guy fourteen-ish times. I'm telling you."

She nodded, then raked one hand through her hair, pausing when she reached the base of her neck, leaving her fingers tangled in the waves there. "I'm so confused." Nolan said nothing, waiting for her to continue. After a moment, she did. "He said this thing a few nights ago that I just… I can't shake it, Nolan."

"Well, what did he say?"

She could recite it verbatim by now, down to his tone and inflection. "He said, 'You should know by now that I always see you'. And the way he said it was… I don't know. Maybe I'm crazy."

"Wow."

"I know."

"Talk about loaded."

"Right?" she sighed, briefly hiding her face in her hands. "And I can't get past the implications of that. 'I always see you'." She glanced back up at Nolan. "But Talia thinks I'm making a mistake having any sort of feelings for Tim during my rookie year, regardless of the fact that we're soulmates."

"And you do? Have feelings for him, I mean."

"No." She replied too quickly, then after a moment's thought, added, "Not on purpose." Eventually, she landed on the most truthful answer of all. "Maybe a little. I don't know how to turn it off. Even after everything that's happened…" she couldn't help but smile sadly, her heart heavy as she admitted, "Wanting to be wanted is a hard thing to let go of."

The TO switch lasted through the next day. Lucy had just finished putting the day's gear in the shop when the foster child from the day before arrived and begged to see Talia. Although Officer Bishop tried to afford Sarah a measure of privacy by taking her to an interrogation room to speak, Lucy couldn't help but listen in, and was once again moved by Talia's talent for discerning.

"The sooner you stop feeling sorry for yourself and do what has to be done," Talia had said, "the better off you'll be."

That advice in particular stuck with Lucy. She thought about it through the rest of the morning, mulling it over in the back of her mind in mantra-like fashion throughout the day. She only brought it up that afternoon during a lull while they acted as backup in support of a drug bust.

"I heard what you said to Sarah. About not feeling sorry for herself," she began, a little nervous, and waited to see how Talia responded.

She didn't seem surprised. "I'd ask how you heard that but I figured you'd be listening. Can't say I didn't mean it for you, too."

"I um… I'd never really considered a scenario where I zeroed out and nothing changed, as pathetic as that sounds," she admitted. It wasn't that she had no goals outside of meeting her soulmate. She had just thought she'd be accomplishing those goals with him beside her. Now that that wasn't part of the plan anymore, she wasn't sure what to expect or what to hope for; what to anticipate.

"It's not pathetic," Talia was quick to counter. "It's a little sad, maybe, but not pathetic. From everything I've seen, timers wreck more relationships than they help. I mean, look at Tim and Isabel. There were three people in that marriage since the beginning. What kind of longevity could they possibly have had?"

Lucy felt a little shameful for not having considered that perspective before now. "I can't believe I never thought of it that way," she whispered. It wasn't that she held herself at fault for all that had gone wrong between Bradford and his wife, but now that Talia mentioned it, she realized how true it was. Having met both Tim and Isabel, it could not be denied that she'd been an invisible presence hovering over their lives long before she ever officially entered it. The revelation was daunting and unsettling.

"I know you didn't. And this might sound harsh, but I have to ask, why do you want so much to be with a person who knew you were coming and still decided to commit himself to someone else? Don't get me wrong; Tim's a good guy, but don't you want better for yourself, Chen?"

Lucy looked down at her hands, feeling her lower lip start to tremble as she took in the full weight of Talia's words. "I thought you said I was going to be important to Tim someday. Do you not think that anymore?" She was brazenly deflecting her question by bringing up past comments, but she didn't have an answer for Talia. She didn't think she'd know until Talia answered her question first.

There was a pause as Talia decided how to respond. "I still think that," she eventually said. "I'm not sure how, but you will be. That's not important right now. What's important to me, and what should be important to you, is that you don't default to anyone. You don't default to anyone," she repeated, "and you don't let anybody default to you. You don't have to want Tim just because a clock said so. You deserve the chance to choose and be chosen." She let her words hang in the air a minute before asking one last followup. "Do you understand?"

Lucy nodded, her face solemn. "Yes, ma'am."

"Okay. Now can that end the feelings talks for the month? You got me sounding like Nolan over here."

She would have laughed at Talia's grousing, but the moment was cut short when Sergeant Grey's voice came over the radio.

"Here we go. Red Civic, Nevada plates, entering parking lot"

Talia looked at Lucy. "You ready, Boot?"

She nodded. "I'm ready."

Sometime during the afternoon -afteryou deserve the chance to choose and be chosen-Lucy quietly reached a decision. It was a little impulsive, but having considered everything Talia had said that day and yesterday, she felt confident it was the right choice.

Well, maybe not confident. She was pretty sure, but also pretty shaky. She'd found herself in a place where there were no right answers, and she'd selected what she felt was the best decision from a lineup of not-so-great ones.

When her shift ended and her paperwork from the day was all submitted, Lucy hurried through showering and changing, determined to get out of the station before someone could stop her for any reason. She avoided everyone, keeping her eyes on the ground as she shuffled through the lobby and out to her car. Only when she was seated in the driver's seat did she pull out her phone and call Nolan.

She held her breath until he picked up. Once he had, she immediately launched into speaking.

"Hey, I need a favor. Are you around?"

She heard a car horn honk from her left. Sure enough, there was Nolan just four spaces down, sitting in the front seat of his truck. He gave her a little wave, then hung up, got out, and walked over to her car. She rolled down the window.

"License and registration?" he asked with a smirk.

On any other day, that would have been a mildly amusing dad joke that Lucy would've laughed at, more out of pity than actually finding it funny. She wasn't in the mood for it tonight, though.

"Can you come with me? I need to go to the urgent care," she said. Though she tried to sound calm, her voice unintentionally took on a frantic edge, betraying her feelings.

His mood changed instantly. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yes." It was a lie.

"What's going on?"

Tears sprang to her eyes, burning at the edges of her lashes. She bit her lip, willing them back.

"Lucy. You're scaring me," Nolan said as he leaned against her door, his hands resting on the panel.

"I'm fine," came her shaky promise as she wiped away tears with the knuckle of her forefinger, "I'm fine. I just don't think I want to do this alone." She took a deep breath, letting it fill her chest before she looked up at him again and spoke aloud the plan that had taken root in her mind just hours before.

"I'm going to get my timer removed."

Chapter 7: An Understanding

Notes:

"Now I don't have much to offer
I thought that was plain to see
Explain I'm just an unbeliever
And I believe you can count on me"
- "Unbeliever", You Me

Chapter Text

She had to give credit where credit was due. Nolan didn't immediately try to talk her out of her choice to get her timer removed, even though Lucy was sure it came off as abrupt to him. He just nodded and agreed at once to accompany her with no other questions asked. They drove to Lucy's apartment so she could drop off her car, after which point she joined him in his truck and he took her to the urgent care.

The ride to the doctor's office was spent mostly in solemn silence, broken only when Lucy's phone rang. It was Jackson. She debated sending it to voicemail but decided against it, answering and trying to sound cheerful as she spoke. She didn't want to alert him to something being up.

"Hey, Jackson," she said brightly. From beside her Nolan appeared to scrutinize her chipper tone. She shrugged, toning it down to a more realistic, mellow level as she asked, "What's up?"

"What's up? Uh, where'd everybody go?" he wondered. "I thought we were studying tonight."

Shit. She'd completely forgotten. "Oh. Are you still at the station?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, man. It sort of slipped my mind."

"Where are you headed? I can meet you guys there."

She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide how much she wanted to divulge. "Um, Nolan's taking me to Cedars; to the urgent care." She figured it couldn't hurt to tell him that much, but was intentional about holding back the other details. Why they were going. What she planned to do. She wanted to keep the trip under wraps as much as possible.

There was also a chance that if she shared the specifics aloud too much, she would psych herself out. Being that she was already pretty keyed up, she didn't want to risk it.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He didn't sound mad that she was flaking out on him, only concerned.

The honest answer was no, but she replied, "Let's just say I'm gonna be okay." It was less the truth than it was a wish.

"Okay." She could tell from his tone that he was disappointed she wouldn't tell him more, but he also was considerate enough to not press it. "Let me know if you need anything, I guess. Hope you feel better."

"Yeah. Me too. Thanks. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow."

She felt bad about letting Jackson down, but tried to put it out of her mind, knowing she'd make it up to him somehow. There'd be plenty of chances to study together over the next few months. Besides, it wasn't like the guyneededto study more. He'd been learning police code since before he could walk, and that was only a slight exaggeration.

"Jackson okay?" Nolan asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, just wondering where we went. I forgot we were all supposed to study tonight. He's not mad though."

Nolan paused before saying, "I noticed you didn't bring up your timer to him." When she didn't comment on it, he asked, "Are you worried he'll try to talk you out of it?"

Lucy shook her head. That wasn't her motivation at all. "I don't think Jackson cares too much about timers, to be honest. Not everyone does." That was half of the truth. The rest of it was harder to share, but she did, although it took a few tries to find the right words for making her point. "I didn't tell him because he's still at the station, and even though I trust him, I don't want it getting out by accident what I'm about to go do. It's no one else's business."

A few seconds passed before Nolan clarified. "By no one… you mean Tim?"

"I mean anyone." She was emphatic on that point. "I don't wantanyoneelse knowing. You saw how the veteran officers reacted when my timer zeroed out during roll call. How would they treat me if they knew I was getting it removed? They'd treat me like I couldn't handle myself. No. I don't want to hear the comments, and I don't want to hear the little digs, and I'm not giving anyone a chance to make them." She looked out the window, watching the streetlights whiz by in a blur as the truck sped onwards toward the doctor's office. "I just want this to be over with."

The wait at the urgent care was short, all things considered, with only four or five patients in line ahead of Lucy when she checked in. She was asked to fill out the clipboard with her information, bringing it back to the front desk when it was completed. She had just sat down in one of the old blue plastic-covered chairs beside Nolan when her phone began to rang. A glance at the caller ID showed her it was Tim. Her blood ran cold, even as she felt the blood rush to her head, her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

"You going to answer that?" Nolan asked.

She declined the call, silenced it to vibrate, and placed it face down on her lap. A few seconds later, it began to buzz. Tim was calling again.

"Dammit," she whispered, once more declining the call.

"Why don't you answer?" Nolan asked. He made an effort to sound blithe about the whole thing, but she saw through the act. He could pretend to read that parenting magazine all he wanted, she knew he was onlytoointerested in what happened next.

"I don't want to lose my nerve," she answered.

"If you can lose your nerve that easily, maybe you're not sure about this." he posited.

"Whose side are you on here, John?"

He put aside the magazine. "Yours, Lucy. I'm always on your side. And look, I'm not trying to convince you one way or another. I just want you to be sure. The last thing you want to do is make a rash decision you'll eventually regret."

Her phone buzzed again, only twice this time. Text messages. She picked her phone up again and read them silently. As she expected, they were from Tim.

You ignoring my phone calls?the first read and she almost chuckled. He should have guessed that much by now.

Jackson said you're at the urgent care. What happened? Are you hurt?

Dammit Jackson. She quickly typed out a message, but not to Tim.

Why did you tell Tim I'm at the doctor?she texted Jackson, entering and then deleting a frown emoji to finish it. She was upset, but he didn't deserve her getting angry at him. He didn't know what she was planning. Luckily, he didn't delay in responding.

Was I not supposed to tell?

Well, no. He wasn't supposed to tell but she'd only just realized that, for all her attempts to keep this little trip a secret, she hadn't had the foresight to specify that much.

It's fine.she replied.He's just won't stop blowing my phone up.

All was quiet for several minutes, with no more messages from either man until eventually, Jackson sent one more message containing a single, smirking emoji.

She shot backGlad you're amusedthen quickly put her phone on Do Not Disturb mode just as the nurse called her name. They were ready for her. Lucy glanced nervously at Nolan.

"You want me to go with? Or should I stay here?" he asked, understanding her look without her having to say a word.

He'd come along with her this far, and for that she was so grateful. He'd been her rock the whole night (hell, he'd been her rock forweeks), but she realized that the final steps a little too intimate to have him hovering nearby. "I think I better go alone," she said. "I shouldn't be long." Then she stood and walked towards the nurse who had called her name.

Her vitals were taken first; temperature, weight, blood pressure, first date of last period. When the nurse asked what brought her in to see the doctor that day, she replied simply, "Timer removal."

An expression of hesitation passed over the woman's face, her eyebrows knitting together as she pointed towards Lucy's arm. "Mind if I look at your wrist?" she asked. Lucy complied, holding out her left arm for examination. After a few moments of studying the timer -and after some light poking and prodding at the skin that held it in place- the nurse looked back up. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to schedule something with a plastic surgeon instead? The doctor can do it here, but it's going to leave a small scar."

Typical Hollywood, Lucy thought drily. God forbid people have skin that dared to be less than flawless. She thought of Talia, of the raised skin on her wrist. The mark left behind by her timer wasn't unsightly by any stretch, and Lucy wasn't so vain as to worry about scarring. "No, ma'am." she answered. With a shrug, the nurse bade her to follow again, leading Lucy to a room separated from the others by a heavy vinyl curtain.

"The doctor will be in shortly," the nurse said, then slid the curtain shut with the unpleasant screech of plastic on metal.

Left alone, Lucy took an anxious look around the small room. The walls were bare except for a small square mirror set just above her eye-line. Who was that for, she wondered. It couldn't have been for any patient under 5'3". A white pedestal sink stood in the corner, and above it was a medicine cabinet containing supplies. There was a rolling stool, a second chair like the ones in the waiting room, and the patient table covered in butcher paper that she knew would crackle if she sat on it. Urgent cares weren't hospitals, but they were close enough that it made her a little uneasy. The air was just as pungent with antiseptic, and the muted sound of medical chatter happening in the halls was too similar to the noises Lucy had heard walking through the ICU to visit Tim.

Nolan would come if she called, but she really didn't want to ask that of him, no matter how willing he'd seemed in the waiting room. She could picture him vividly, standing beside her as the doctor methodically extracted the timer. In her mind, he didn't look supportive. He looked sad. Disappointed, even.

She absently ran one finger over the acrylic face of her timer. Strange to think she'd zeroed out only a little under a month ago. Of all the places she thought counting down would bring her, here to a doctor's office to get it removed had not been on her list of possibilities. It would have seemed unfathomable not so long ago; she'd spent just as much of her life having a timer on her arm as she had without it.

Lucy knew the numbers on her timer would turn to dashes as soon as the connection to her body was severed, and that that would also be true of Tim, wherever he was. If his model was anything like hers, the faint green glow would switch to yellow. What would he think when the zeroes disappeared and the dashes returned? Would it make a sound, like it had when they first met eyes? Would he guess that she'd gotten it removed or assume that something worse had happened?

Would he even notice at all that anything had changed?

Desperate for distraction, Lucy picked up her phone. She meant to check her Instagram but paused upon seeing that Tim had texted again, though only once.

Can you please just let me know you're okay?

A lump formed in her throat as she read it over several times. She wasn't okay; she really wasn't, and she wanted to answer him, but didn't. She didn't know what to say, but the longer she stared at the message, the more she ached to answer, and the more she felt certain that she shouldn't.

She called Nolan instead.

"Did you ever think about getting your timer removed?" Lucy asked the second he answered.

"Are we just doing away with greetings now? Is that going to be a thing?"

"Sorry. Hi."

"Hi. How's it going back there?"

"It's fine." She paced a few steps, standing on tiptoes to appraise her reflection in the comically small mirror. "I'm in a room the size of a closet waiting to be seen." Then she repeated, "Did you ever think about getting your timer removed?"

This time, he paused to think about it. "A few times," he answered, after mulling it over. "Mostly during the first few years."

"Was there something that stopped you?"

"Eh, different things. At first, I was just lazy. Seemed silly to go to the doctor over something elective like that. No offense," he added quickly. "Sometime around Henry's tenth birthday I got word that Grace had gotten married. Thought about doing it then. But things were really rough with me and Sarah. I don't know. I think I liked having one last tie to her, even though we never spoke. And now… sometimes I look at it and think about her. On bad days, I could just about go crazy with missing her. Mostly it just reminds me that she's out there somewhere still. Even if it's not with me, I'm just glad she's still out there."

"Do you think she'd notice if you got your timer removed?"

"I honestly don't know. I'd like to think so. But it's been so long that I don't know. I bet Tim would notice, though."

Lucy wasn't so sure. "He made a point to stop looking at his timer when he met his wife. He hides it behind a watch."

"Oh. Well, if you're worried he won't-"

"-No, it's not about that. This isn't a cry for attention." Growing flustered, she ran her fingers over the furrows in her brow. "I don't care if he notices or not. This isn't about him. This is about me. This is about me," she emphasized, "and what I want and what I need."

"And what you need is to remove your timer?"

Was it? She'd thought so this afternoon, but her guts had gradually waned the longer she was in the doctors office. "Maybe. I don't know." She shook her head quickly, as if that could shake out the last of her uncertainty.

"Lucy, it's a big deal," Nolan chided gently. "You really should be sure."

Her vision went blurry as tears welled in her eyes. "The only thing I'm sure about is I don't want to feel this way anymore. I don't want to look at my timer and be reminded that I never stood a fucking chance."

Her confession was met with the harsh, piercing sound of the dial tone. Nolan had hung up. Lucy pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it. She considered calling back, figuring he must have lost signal, but it was soon not needed. The curtain opened halfway, revealing Nolan.

"Can I see your wrist?" he asked.

"What are you doing?"

"You said Tim hides his timer behind his watch, right?" She nodded. "Okay. Now, can I see your wrist?"

She extended her arm in his direction, acquiescing to… well, she wasn't sure just what she was permitting yet. Then she saw Nolan reach for his right arm, undoing the band of his wristwatch and wrapping it around Lucy's. She'd worn watches before, but those were all dainty, almost flimsy things. This watch, with its brown band of braided leather and its silver, circular face, was more than enough to cover the top inch and a half of her wrist, effectively concealing her timer.

Which, she now realized, was the point.

"There," Nolan said, taking a step back once the watch was in place. "Look at your arm. What do you see?"

"Nolan-"

"Luce, come on. Indulge me. Look at it."

She looked down. "I see your wristwatch."

"Oh, so close." He grinned. "You seeyourwristwatch. The wristwatch I'm giving you."

"Nolan." She tried to smile, but it was a pretty sad attempt. "I know what you're trying to do."

"This isn't me trying to fix it for you, Lucy. Honest. I just don't want to see you give up something that's important to you because of how someone else made you feel," he explained. "You said you didn't want to look at your arm and remember how you felt. That's fair. Now you've got another choice. Now you can look at your arm and remember that you have someone who cares about you enough to give you his best-slash-only watch."

She ran a finger around the metallic edge of the clock face before looking up at him. "Will you want the watch back if I decide to get my timer removed?"

"I'd be tempted to ask for it back, yes," he said with a chuckle. "But it's yours."

Lucy lowered her arm. The weight of the watch was unfamiliar, but not heavy, and the gesture was so touching she could've cried.

"Thanks, Nolan," she said softly.

He nodded, shrugging off her thanks like it was no big deal. "I'll be in the waiting room, whatever you decide." he said, then saw himself out and left her alone to contemplate.

Where before her finger had traced the timer, now it ran over the weave of the braided leather. It perfectly concealed her timer. Not even the faint green glow was visible with the watch around her wrist. Nolan's best-slash-only. It wasn't a fancy watch, probably not very expensive, but it was nice and sturdy. Reliable.

Kind of like Nolan himself.

"How'd it go?" Nolan asked and stood to his feet as Lucy walked back into the waiting room.

Lucy held out her wrist for him to see. She still wore his watch.

"I couldn't do it," she admitted softly. "I got all the way to letting them clean it with alcohol wipes, and then I chickened out." Dropping her arm, she looked at the ground, avoiding his eyes as she asked, "Do you think that was the right choice?"

Nolan put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed, trying to reassure her. "I think in this case, the right choice is the one you're surest of."

"Well, great," she pretended to whine. "I was only slightly more certain about keeping it than I was about getting it removed when the moment came. I guess that's what I get for being impulsive.

"It's just that so much of this whole thing has been out of my control." Lucy looked up at him. "I wanted to feel like I was in charge for a minute, you know?"

He nodded. "I know. Believe me, I get it, but you should know that knowing you can remove it and still choosing to keep your timer is also you making a choice. That's you being in charge."

A glance at the clock as they passed the receptionist's desk revealed it was almost 8. "How about you drive me home and I'll buy you dinner?" Lucy suggested. "I owe you sushi or something for wasting your evening."

"Come on. Helping you is never a waste," he said, playfully putting on a tone of fake piety as he spoke. "But I also wouldn't say no to pizza."

She nodded, agreeing "Pizza, it is," and grinned for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Her smile didn't last long, though, quickly fading as soon as they reached the sliding doors.

They hadn't even made it out of the foyer when she spotted a familiar figure making his way through the parking lot toward the all-glass entrance of the building. For a second, Lucy was convinced her eyes were playing tricks on her and chalked it up as fatigue, but as he walked closer, she knew she had not been mistaken.

Tim had come to the urgent care. He was dressed in civilian clothes, but his collar was just a little askew, as if he'd gotten dressed in a rush. His expression appeared a little frantic as he jogged towards the door, slowing only when he laid eyes on Lucy. Maybe she was imagining it, but the anxiety written plainly on his face appeared to dissipate once he saw her, relaxing as the automatic sliding doors parted for her and Nolan and they stepped outside.

"Hi," he said. Again, she must have been imagining things, because he almost sounded relieved.

She couldn't help but regard him with suspicion. It was one thing to call and text, but showing up at the doctor's office when she'd been ignoring his attempts to contact her was on another level entirely. What would he have done if she'd still been waiting to be seen? Called her from reception? Walked back to the triage and gone room to room until he found her? She wanted to at least ask what he was doing there, but, "Hi." was all she said back, and she was proud that her voice was steady in spite of how wary she felt.

His eyes traveled between her and Nolan, brows furrowing as he asked. "Everything okay?"

"Yep." He wouldn't get more than that out of her until she knew why he'd come.

Nolan had no such qualms. "I was just about to take Lucy home," he said.

"I'll take her." Lucy noticed it wasn't really an offer. It was closer to an order.

Nolan, God bless him, looked at her first. "Only if it's okay with you." When Tim tried to insist it was fine, he hushed him by stating, "No offense, sir, but I was asking Lucy."

She could almost hug him for that, but stopped after catching Tim's dumbfounded expression out of the corner of her eye. "Yeah, it's okay. Raincheck on the pizza, though," Lucy said, trying to sound nonchalant when she felt anything but.

Only when she had given her permission did Nolan walk away, leaving the two of them -her and Tim- alone on the sidewalk in front of the doctors office.

Tim spoke first. It was a little jarring; she wasn't used to him speaking first. "You okay? You're not hurt or anything?"

"I'm not hurt."

A tense moment passed where Tim's eyes traveled over her, apparently looking for evidence of an injury that she was concealing. When he noticed none, he was satisfied to move on. "Okay. Let's go." He started to walk away, pausing only when he didn't hear her footsteps following behind him. "You coming?"

Maybe it was the remnants of her courage from earlier. Maybe it was bullheadedness, or she was emboldened by Nolan's watch and assurances. Or maybe Lucy was just tired of the games. Either way, she found the fortitude to stand her ground. "No."

"No?"

"No," she repeated. "I'm not leaving until you tell me why you came here."

He scoffed at her. "I was trying to be nice. If you don't want me to drive you home, call an Uber for all I care."

Lucy laughed. It wasn't even funny, what he said, but she couldn't help it. She wasn't trying to be mean; he was just being ridiculous, inconsistent, and was so clearly out of his depth. It was as amusing as it was sad to see him flounder over feelings he couldn't name, much less explain. And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? No matter his protests and contradictions about soulmates and timers, they all went out the window the moment he saidI can always see you,rendered void the second he showed up to see her without her even having to ask.

"What's so funny?"

"You did not drive all this way just to make me call an Uber, Tim."

He tapped his keys impatiently against his leg as he spoke. "You weren't answering your phone."

"I'm off-duty."

"You should still answer for your training officer."

"And that's who you were calling as? My TO?"

He didn't answer. Made braver by his silence, she forged ahead.

"I know Jackson told you I'd come to the urgent care. Obviously, because I only told one person other than Nolan and yet, here you are. If you were wondering if I'd been hurt on duty, you could've just asked Talia, but she wouldn't have been able to tell you anything, so you just came here yourself. In kind of a rush, if the state of your shirt is any indication. Why?"

He avoided her eyes, looking just past her instead of at her. "What do you want me to say, Chen? Do you want me to say I was worried?"

Only now that he'd mentioned it so specifically. "If that's the truth, then yeah. I want to hear you say that."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm not."

"Okay. Fine." He was flustered; that much she could tell from the way he shifted his weight from on leg to the other. One hand had delved into his jeans pocket while the other gesticulated, making the keychain in that hand jingle with every gesture. "I was worried. So? You weren't answering, and I had this feeling, and y-you really askedNolanto take you to the doctor? Nolan, and not me, your…" He seemed to realize what he was saying and stopped short. The rest of his sentence hung in the air unfinished.

If he thought she'd let it go, he was wrong. "My what, Tim?" Lucy asked, and still he kept silent. "My training officer? My soulmate?"

His eyes landed on hers, blazing with intensity as he answered, "It's both, isn't it?"

That admission, spoken barely above a whisper and said more to the ground than to her, succeeded in rendering Lucy speechless; her mouth went dry, and for the second time that night a lump formed in her throat. There were several long, successive moments where the only sound she could hear was the hum from nearby traffic.

"Take me home," she finally said once she'd found her voice again. "We need to talk."

She was glad for a quick, quiet trip back to her apartment. It gave her a little time to gather her thoughts and plan her attack (so to speak). It was too serious a conversation to have in a car, something Tim seemed to have realized too. He didn't try to talk to her during the drive, except to ask whether she wanted the radio on. She pressed the dial and let whatever station he'd preset play, sound filling the space so it felt less awkward.

Less awkward, but not by much. No song in existence could completely unwind the tension that coiled around them.

Lucy spoke only enough to direct him to her apartment complex and didn't wait to see whether he was following as she walked towards her unit. Out of the three stories in the building, she lived on the second floor in a one bedroom that faced the parking lot. She was glad she kept the place pretty neat and wouldn't have to worry about Tim judging her as a slob once he saw her apartment. Still, she noted how different it was from his cozy home with its hedges and white trim. They were living very different lives, and that was never more apparent to her than now, as she fumbled to extract her keys from her bag in the poorly lit hallway outside her front door.

"You thirsty? Hungry?" she asked after unlocking her door. She placed her jacket and purse on top of the small Ikea dining table that only sat two. Then she walked toward the kitchen, toeing off her shoes as she went, and tried to remember what she had on hand in order to make good on her offer. She opened the fridge to inspect it contents and was disappointed to realize she did not have much. Basically just breakfast food and three beers left over from the last study session she hosted. "I hope you're not hungry because all I have is Landshark. I can order takeout if you want."

Tim had not followed her in beyond the door, choosing instead to stay put in the entryway. "You don't have to feed me, but a beer sounds good."

She grabbed and opened two bottles from the fridge, then walked back to him and placed one in his hand.

"You gonna stand in my doorway all night?" she asked before she turned and walked toward the couch, hoping he'd follow. After a moment, he did, taking a seat on the opposite end to her left.

"Since when do you wear watches?" he asked, pointing at her left arm.

She glanced at her wrist when he mentioned it. "Since Nolan gave me his."

Tim sneered a little hearing Nolan's name. "Didn't realize you guys were that close."

"Yeah, well, we came up in the academy together, and he has his own shitty experience with timers in his past, so he's been helping me."

"Hmm."

Her explanation didn't seem to appease him, but there was nothing she could do about that. She hadn't said anything that wasn't true.

"What's going on, Tim?" she asked, figuring there was no point in being subtle.

Lucy could tell he wanted to be evasive; she could practically hear the wheels turning in his head, and was pleased when he overcame the urge to mislead and answered honestly. "I don't know."

She noticed he didn't say it meanly, using none of his trademark sarcasm. He was being straightforward.

"Me neither," she replied, also genuine.

Her response earned her a pointed look. "I thought you had all this timer stuff figured out, Chen. You sure seemed to think so a month ago."

"Yeah. A month ago. A lot has happened since then." That was an understatement. "Since day one, you've told me you don't believe in soulmates, then you turn around and say things like 'I always see you' and 'it's both, isn't it'. You've sort of shaken up everything I thought I knew."

He smirked a little, but there was an edge to it. Regret, maybe? It was still difficult for her to decode his expressions when he worked hard to be inscrutable most of the time. "Well, in that case, I don't know whether to be impressed with myself or apologize."

"An apology would be nice," Lucy said plainly.

"And what all am I apologizing for?"

"Would you like an annotated list?" she chuckled. "Because if so, we could be here all night."

Tim looked a little ashamed as her words sunk in. "Look, this hasn't been exactly easy on me either, okay? Things were hard enough before…" he fumbled over what to say next, landing on, "well, before you came along."

"I know that," Lucy whispered, thinking of Isabel without him having to bring her up overtly. She harbored no ill-will for the other woman; no jealousy, no anger. If anything, knowing Tim and meeting her had only made Lucy worry exponentially more for her well-being.

"I thought you were hurt tonight," he admitted. "I asked West if he'd seen you, and he told me where you'd gone, so I figured that something must have happened during your shift, but Talia didn't remember you getting hurt, so she couldn't tell me anything." He picked at the beer label, running over the loose corner with the pad of his thumb as a way of occupying his hands. "I was a little freaked out when you wouldn't answer my messages."

"Given what I know of your history, I can understand why you'd think the worst when someone you care about doesn't answer."

He didn't agree with her assessment; that much was evident by the way his nose wrinkled when she said it. "Don't go all psych major on me, Chen. I never said I care about you."

"Oh, so you make a habit of running to urgent cares every time a rookie you train needs medical attention?" He didn't respond to that. "Yea, I thought so."

"Thought what?"

"You came to check on me." There was no doubt, but she wanted to hear him say it himself.

"It's not as simple as that, but no matter what I say…" he trailed off, appearing to struggle with what to say next. It wasn't hard to imagine that his wrestling was due not just to a connection he couldn't understand, but from loyalty to the woman he married. She knew enough about Tim to understand how seriously he took his marital vows. She guessed he wondered what sort of husband would he be if he acknowledged a duty of care for a woman that was not his wife.

Lucy spoke as a means to relieve him. "No matter what you say," she began, "you feel that something is different now?" Even though she was certain she was right, she expected him to shoot her down for even suggesting it and waited for him to say something snippy and contrarian. The response she anticipated never came.

Eventually, he confessed, "I still don't know if I believe in soulmates, but I'm humble enough to admit that something's happened that I can't explain."

Lucy took that confession in, though only for a moment. She wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to playfully retort, "No offense, Tim, but 'humble' isn't a word I'd use to describe you." Fortunately, he didn't seem offended by her light dig at his expense. She swore she heard him chuckle before he took another sip of his beer.

"It wasn't always like that, you know." he whispered. "I used to believe in the timers. Maybe not the way you do, but I think was more open to it at least."

"What made you change your mind?"

"Isabel," he said, followed by a whispered, "Sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear that."

"No, it's okay," she was quick to say. "Do you want to tell me more?"

"… You really want to know?"

Lucy nodded.

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "We met when we were rookies and had this instant rapport. I'd never experienced that with anyone before her. I honestly don't think I ever connected with anyone immediately the way I did with her. So, I figured if that didn't make my timer go off…" he trailed off again, debating how to proceed. She gave him the space to figure out what he wanted to say next, afraid if she tried to prompt him she'd seem overeager. Eventually, he picked up where he left off. "I decided if my soulmate wasn't Isabel, then soulmates weren't real, because how could they be? I loved her more than I'd ever loved anyone, and my timer kept going like nothing had happened."

She expected to be hurt by the truth, whenever Tim decided to tell it, but Lucy found she couldn't muster even an iota of offense now that she knew more. How could she blame Tim for finding love the way he'd described it. If she'd felt what he had for anyone else in the interim, she didn't know that she would've been able to resist either.

She wasn't hurt, but she still believed she was owed answers. "For weeks now, you've told me you don't believe in timers, and you weren't always kind about it. You made me feel so small so oftenonly to turn around and say things that gave me hope."

"I know."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" she asked. If she were braver, or if their situations were less enmeshed, she would've reached out to touch his arm. As it was, she just held her beer tighter. "Why did you let me feel alone in this?"

"You could have your pick with reasons." She noticed he looked tired and worn as he exhaled a deep sigh. "I'd already told you I don't believe in timers. I'm married. I'm your TO. There's a hundred different ways this gets complicated the more I'm transparent with you."

"So what happens now?" Lucy asked. She didn't know how she'd go back to training with him, knowing what she knew now, without some sort of guidance. "I promised Andersen it"-she wouldn't let herself sayus- "wouldn't be an issue. "

"And it won't be," he replied with a confidence that made the alternative appear impossible. "I wasn't talking out of my ass when I said that our timers wouldn't affect my ability to train you. I'm not going to go easy on you."

"I never thought you would, but that doesn't mean I won't need clarity going forward." When he scoffed a little, she insisted. "I can't have you being a hard-ass on shift only to go soft on me suddenly for reasons I don't understand. You may be able to flip a switch like that, but that's not me. I can't do that. I have to have something clear and concise." She briefly thought back to their conversation outside the urgent care.

That's who you were calling as? My TO? Or my soulmate?

"I need to know which Tim I'm dealing with," she said with finality. "I'll never be a good cop if I have to spend even a second of my day wondering which one you'll be. I need to have a hard line."

A few minutes passed in silence as Tim weighed how to respond to her.

"Obviously the ideal thing would be to avoid talking about any of this during shifts," he started, "but I don't know how feasible that's going to be in the long run. I mean, you met Isabel on day two. This is already a damn mess." He pondered it another minute. "I think a good starting point is I'll only call you Chen or Boot during our shifts. And when we're off work or if there's ever something personal, I'll call you Lucy. And then you do the same for me. Bradford on. Tim off."

It wasn't a perfect solution, but she knew that probably didn't exist. At least it was a defined boundary where before she'd gone without.

"That works for now," she agreed. Then she asked, "So, Tim?"

"Yes, Lucy?"

"What did you mean by 'you should know by now I can always see you'?"

He looked a little bashful that she'd even brought it up. "It sounds dumb, but I noticed it on your second day. There was that whole moment with our timers going off, but this was different. Even in a still room, or from across the bullpen, I see you first. Hell, sometimes you're the only one I see."

She needed that explained, if only to satisfy her own curiosity. "What do you mean?"

A moment passed where he thought about his answer. "Sometimes I'll see you and it's only you. I know there are things happening around you, in the background, there are people or whatever, but you're the focus. The first three or four seconds, the rest may as well be invisible." A little half-smile that emphasized the lines around his mouth crossed his face, but he caught himself, and it disappeared when he cleared his throat before draining the rest of his beer.

A blush crept into Lucy's cheeks as her face broke into a wide grin, despite her attempts to restrain it. Tim took note and was only too happy to point it out.

"Try not to look too pleased with yourself," he jibed.

She bit on her lips to fight the smile, then decided to reward his honesty with a little more of her own. "You grabbed me by my elbow on the first day, and it felt like I put my arm over a bonfire. It's happened a few times now. If I touch you or you touch me, there's a lot of heat."

Tim looked down at his beer. "It doesn't hurt you, does it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. No, it's not nearly as intense as it was on the first day."

He nodded. "Good." Even though his response was only one word, she noticed visible relief on his face when she confirmed that the way their connection affected her did not cause her pain.

Lucy finished her beer not long after and, as they had reached something like a resolution, Tim decided to go. She saw him out.

"You're back with me tomorrow," he said to her as they stood by the door. "I'm sure Talia will be glad to have Nolan back."

"Yeah, because I was such a burden for her." she teased. "You'll be glad to give Jackson back to Lopez, right?" she asked.

He shrugged and made a vague, non-committal sound. "Got a few of his kinks worked out. I think I'm returning him improved."

"Thank you."

At this, he gave her a look. "I didn't do it for you."

"I'm not saying you did, but he's my friend. It still means a lot to me that you helped him instead of just saying, 'tough luck'."

"Uh huh, sure." He didn't seem convinced, but she wasn't going to try to argue her point; not when the night had largely been a victory. "Next time you're hurt," he said, "can you let me know? Or at least answer the phone?"

Shame washed over her before she admitted, "I wasn't hurt tonight."

This was news to him, and he seemed genuinely perplexed when he asked, "You weren't?"

"No." Lucy tried to meet his eyes but couldn't quite maintain it. Her gaze instead focused on the still rumpled collar on his shirt. "I was thinking of getting my timer removed. I didn't, but I came close."

She looked up just in time to catch the briefest flash of hurt that crossed over his face, but it was gone in a blink. The only remaining evidence of his feelings on the matter was in the way he pursed his lips. They curved downward as he nodded. He understood.

"I'm not sure what I think matters much to you in this case," he said after a pause, "but I'm glad you didn't." Then, he opened the door. "Goodnight, Boot."

She didn't respond until the door had closed and she heard his footsteps echo on the concrete staircase leading out of her building.

"Goodnight, Bradford."

Chapter 8: Strategy

Notes:

"Love's not a competition, but I'm winning
At least I thought I was, but there's no way of knowing
You know what it's like when you're new to the game
But I'm not."
- "Love's Not a Competition", Kaiser Chiefs

Chapter Text

Lucy wasn't proud of how long she stood, frozen, facing the closed door to her apartment long after Tim left. The night could've gone worse, that much was true, but she could not envision a scenario where it had gonebetter. At least now she knew she wasn't alone in feeling affected by the timers, and now she had a boundary to adhere to during work; a guardrail to keep her in check during training, which she'd been asking for for weeks. Lucy attempted to focus on those things, the highlights, and the positives, and tried not to give too much mind to the questions she still had, or fixate on Tim saying that he was glad she hadn't removed her timer.

She tried, but failed. She was only human after all.

She didn't move until her stomach rumbled. She remembered then that she hadn't eaten dinner, and the beer on an empty stomach was starting to disagree with her. Pizza for one person was a depressing order, so she opted to make the best of what was already in her fridge, which meant scrambled eggs and toast at almost 10 pm. She finished quickly and decided to follow dinner with a long, hot shower.

She'd placed Nolan's watch on the bathroom counter before she stepped under the hot spray. Once more, her timer was visible, although the steam made the countdown clock fog up; all she could see was the glow of the green light, and that only if she looked closely. It was strange that she didn't feel the antipathy of earlier when she looked at it now. Had it only been hours since she'd considered getting it removed? She wondered what that meant. Did that make her a flake? Emotionally volatile, maybe? No. No, that couldn't have been it. Yes, she'd thought about removing her timer, but in the context of her life it was only a blip on the radar.

Knowing what she knew now, she was certain that it was not her, but Tim that had changed. Rather, he hadn't changed as much as he'd started being honest, confirming there was a connection between them where previously he'd insisted there was none. If not romantic feelings, there were at least protective ones at play for him that made her look at it differently. She couldn't despise it now, nor could she rightly hold on to her feelings of rejection. Not when she finally knew, if not the entire truth, a good portion of it.

Then there was what he'd said about being glad she'd kept it. Frankly, that had thrown her for a loop. She'd been almost positive he wouldn't notice if she'd gotten it removed. Not only did he make it seem like he would've noticed, but removing her timer might have upset him on some level. Not that it was his decision to make; he'd made that clear, and she was glad he'd said as much, but the more she thought about removing her timer now, the less likely it seemed she would do it. It was a strange, but not unwelcome sensation to realize the idea of causing Tim unintentional harm repulsed her.

What would happen the next day, she wondered. It would be odd to see Tim tomorrow, wouldn't it? She replayed every word of their conversation in her head, down to the nuance. He would be Bradford to her tomorrow, and she would be Chen or Boot.

She secretly couldn't wait until the next time he called her by her first name.

The musing kept Lucy awake into the single digit hours, sleeping eluding her long after her shower ended. She lay awake in bed, feeling an alertness that all her attempts to rest couldn't allay, and in her distraction she failed to set an alarm for the following day. She awoke the next morning to a brighter sun than she was accustomed to and the ringing of her phone. Her mother was calling, and it was a little after seven in the morning.

"Shit!" Her shift began at eight. The drive to the station took twenty minutes on good days, not to mention the time she'd need to get into uniform before roll call.

She was on her feet in a flash and shed her PJs first. Then she grabbed clean underwear and the first shirt and pair of jeans her hands landed on before hurrying to the bathroom. She only had time to splash her face with a handful of cold water from the tap after she brushed her teeth, then pulled a brush through the tangles in her hair that had accumulated over night. No time for breakfast; last two pieces of her loaf of bread would have to do. She ate hurriedly before she picked up her jacket and bag and ra to the door.

Her mother called a second time as she ran down the stairwell. Lucy answered just so her mother would leave her alone for the rest of the day.

"Mom, I really can't," she started to say, but was interrupted immediately.

"Lucy, sweetie, weren't you going to tell me your timer zeroed out?"

She could not be serious. Her mother decided they needed to have this talknow? "How did you find out?"

"Please, I was there when you got it installed. I've been waiting for this as long as you have. Now, I gave you a month to get to know each other as a courtesy, but I think it's time your father and I met the man, and with Thanksgiving coming up in two weeks, we both agree that would be the perfect chance to do it."

This request, order, whatever, almost made Lucy drop her keys. "What? No. No, mom, you're absolutely not meeting him."

"And why not? We've given you plenty of time alone. He should want to meet your family."

She bit back a groan. "I can't have this conversation right now. I have to go. I'm late."

"Already? My word, he works fast!"

"Mother!" Lucy was aghast at the insinuation, praying her mother was kidding. "No! I'm late for work. That thing I do at the police station? Roll call is in like thirty minutes."

"Oh, yes, I forgot you're still doing that," she said, sounding not at all impressed, then gasped. "Lucy! Did you meet your soulmate during an arrest?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll call you later, Mom."

"Don't forget Thanksgiving dinner!" was the last thing she heard before she hit the red end call button with a great degree of satisfaction.

Lucy made it to the precinct with only ten minutes to spare, meaning she had to run to the locker room to get changed. Talia and Angela were already dressed but had decided to linger for whatever reason.

It was possible, Lucy realized, that they stuck around just to tease her.

"Oh, look who decided to join us," Angela joked as Lucy whipped her locker door open and yanked off her shirt. "Big night last night, Boot?"
She stuttered in her movements and wondered what Lopez could possibly know about her evening. There was no way Tim would tell her, and she was pretty sure Nolan hadn't. Deciding it was just standard TO-on-rookie ribbing without any underlying context, she refused to let herself rise to the bait. "No bigger than usual, ma'am." she said.

Talia didn't look convinced, but neither did she ask any more on the subject. "Roll call in ten. You better hurry."

She knew that already but didn't dare say so, knowing any response she made to that effect could be interpreted as backtalk. She just quietly rushed through changing, never hating long sleeves more in her life, and was still sticking bobby pins into her bun as she ran to the briefing room. She slowed to a more moderate walking pace just a few feet outside the room to fake the appearance of ease.

Tim stood at the podium as she entered. She still felt frazzled as hell, until she met his eyes. He watched her walk in and she perceived the slightest hitch to his breathing, betrayed by the way his shoulders lifted slightly the second she came in to view. She remembered what he'd told her the night before -what always seeing her meant and entailed- and wished she could see what that felt like. She wondered what he thought when he looked at her in those moments, if he thought anything. Would it abate in time, like the warmth had for her, becoming something more manageable and not so distracting? But those were questions she'd save for later. For every two he'd answered, it was like ten replaced them. Lucy lowered her eyes and walked to her seat in the front row with Nolan and Jackson.

After she was seated, Tim called the room to attention. "All right, settle down. Settle down. Everyone knows what today is, and I just want to say… that Team Bradford is going to dominate once again."

His statement, spoken with a comical amount of swagger, earned him boos and jeers. "Not this year, Blondie!" Lopez shouted from the back.

"Dominate what?" Nolan asked Jackson.

"The roundup," he answered and grinned. "The TOs sponsor a competition for rookies a month into the job. Most felony arrests in one shift wins."

"Should Nolan be competing?" Lucy spoke across Nolan to joke to Jackson. "You know how he gets."

"Hey!" Nolan interjected. "There's nothing wrong with liking a little healthy competition."

"Healthy? You're cutthroat and relentless," Jackson replied, then added, "Which I respect."

"All right, settle down," Sergeant Grey said as he entered the room, an echo of Tim's pretend call to order from earlier. He shot the training officer a glare from the podium. "Don't think I didn't see you up in my spot, Bradford." Then he looked around the room. "I am aware that today is the day our TO units compete for most arrests, so let me be clear. Under no circumstance does the department approve or endorse this competition. I do not want to hear about your points. I do not want to hear about your strategy." He looked at each of the rookie officers, then back towards the TOs. "Am I clear, Officer Bradford?"

"Yes, sir," Tim agreed, a night and day difference from his earlier crowing. "It's not about winning. It's about good policing and teamwork."

No more mentions were made of the roundup throughout the rest of the briefing. When they were dismissed, Lucy rose to her feet and met Tim outside the briefing room. There was a moment where she wondered whether he would mention the previous night or greet her by name before reinstating the workplace boundaries; inexplicably, the thought put a small smile on her face.

"What's that look for?" Tim asked as she walked up to him.

She shrugged. "No reason."

Her smile was met by a smirk of his own, although his had an edge to it. "I'm going to give you to the count of five to get that smile off your face."

"What?"

"You said you can't turn it off and on like me? This is how you learn. Five, four, three, two."

She stopped smiling.

"Good job, Boot." He actually sounded proud of her.

And shit, hearing him sound proud made her want to smile, but she bit down on the inside of her cheek and kept her face neutral while he explained their game plan for the roundup.

"My team has won this competition for five years straight, and Team Bradford wins at any cost." he said as he marched down the hall at a clip with Lucy close behind.

"But Sergeant Grey just said-"

"He said doesn't want to hear about it, which is different than saying don't do it."

"Is today's test on loopholes?" she joked. When Tim turned and looked unamused, she apologized. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"The scoring is like football. 7 points for a felony, 3 for a misdemeanor. Quality over quantity." They came to a stop outside of the men's locker room. "Wait here."

"What are you doing?" she asked as he walked away.

Tim tapped one finger to the side of his head. "Strategy, Boot. You're learning today."

Strategy, as Tim called it (although he later referred to it insurance as well) turned out to be a wrapped, rectangular package that he carried under his arm. He nodded to Lucy to follow him as he strode across the precinct to the dispatch office.

Lucy had never been to dispatch before. It wasn't like they gave a grand tour of the building when she started the job. A good deal of it was fend for self. If a rookie couldn't navigate a building, they certainly couldn't navigate the streets. Lucy wasn't sure what to expect from dispatch, but she was surprised to enter a square shaped room with dim lighting, except for a few amber colored bulbs set into lamps on a few high shelves. A handful of employees were crammed into the office, donning headsets and clacking away expertly at computers as calls came in.

Tim knocked on the opened door twice as a courtesy. "Nell." he said. There was a tone to his voice that Lucy had never heard before. It was pleasant, almost cheerful, even if it rang a little false, and he sported grin on his face that deepened the dimples at either corner of his mouth.

A woman turned around upon hearing her name, swiveling in her chair to look their direction, and her eyes widened upon seeing Tim. Nell was pretty.Verypretty, in fact, with bright red hair piled high in two buns atop her head and a flawless cat eye underneath her winged-frame glasses. She dressed smartly, donning a cardigan over a knee length dress that hugged her ample curves.

Lucy didn't consider herself a jealous woman, but she suddenly felt a little graceless by comparison.

"Hey," Nell said, and Lucy sensed barely concealed longing in that one syllable. If Tim couldn't see that this woman held a torch for him, he was clueless.

Then she thought of the gift tucked under his arm and understood. Nell was the strategy, their insurance, and Tim was far from ignorant of her feelings. The whole thing made Lucy's stomach turn a little. She already had mixed emotions over the concept of the round up (after drilling into the need to take the job seriously, turning a whole shift into a game felt contradictory, to say the least) and knowing Tim planned to goose the numbers with a little bribery made her feel even worse.

"Look at you," Tim said in that same charming tone. "You look amazing. You're glowing. What's your secret?"

"Oh!" Nell blushed, giggling as she looked down briefly. "I hiked Malibu Creek yesterday. You should try it sometime." She looked at Tim again, hopefully. The unspoken invitation was about as subtle as a neon sign.

Tim glossed over it as if he'd missed the cue. "Listen, I saw this at the bookstore and thought of you," he said and handed her the package. The whole exchange was heavy-handed. Lucy wanted to roll her eyes as Nell tore off the paper and squealed.

"Kilimanjaro! How did you know I want to go someday?"

"I'm good at finding things out, Nell," Tim said, and Lucy was done with the conversation. She willfully tuned the rest out and instead sang an Aretha song in her head, wrote a grocery list, and occupied her mind any way she could while Tim shamelessly flirted to get prime calls from dispatch.

"Come on," she heard him say to Nell, directing all his charisma at her to get her to bend to his will. It was a sight to see. He looped his thumbs through his belt, tilted his head ever so slightly to the right, and gave her a lopsided smile while asking, "Do it for me?"

Of course, the insistence that she couldn't show favoritism was mostly for show, and all it took was Tim asking nicely for Nell to agree. They left dispatch soon after, and the smile on his face quickly disappeared. The facade had served its purpose. He was his usual, cranky self again.

"I'd ask what that was," Lucy said as they walked down the hall to get geared up, "but I know the answer is going to disappoint me."

"Good thing I don't live to please you, Chen."

She scoffed and replied, "Yeah, it's a good thing you don't."Because flirting with that poor woman to get her to cheat for you is some pretty juvenile behavior.she thought.

He glanced at her; Lucy caught it from the corner of her vision. "You got a problem with me celebrating the unsung heroes of the LAPD?"

"Not at all. I just don't like when it comes with caveats."

Tim paused and faced her. "What's the issue here? You're my Boot, not my conscience. If you got a problem with the way I play the game, I'm sure Mahoney would love help with the drunk tank." He pointed toward a holding cell where Officer Mahoney was dragging a mop back and forth, a pained look on his face. "Some heavy pukers last night, so I hear."

She was just about to issue a half-assed apology when Lopez and Jackson marched into booking with two suspects in tow.

"You're kidding me," Tim muttered just as Angela asked with a knowing smirk, "You here booking someone?"

Tim grimaced, biting out a sharp, "No."

Her smirk widened, becoming cocky. "Guess we're first on the boards, West. 14 points." The pair shared a fist-bump.

Tim turned to Lucy. "Let's go."

Despite his flirting and present for Nell, Tim and Lucy's morning passed quietly. They received a handful of small, easily solved calls, but hadn't booked a single arrest by ten. She tried not to be pleased by the turn of events, but couldn't help but think it would be an example of cosmic justice if her TO had put his thumb on the scale and still lost.

Her personal phone buzzed in her pants pocket. The group text she, Jackson, and Nolan kept going had a few notifications in it, with the latest update being that Talia and Nolan had just completed their first arrest.

"Talia and Nolan are on the board," she informed Tim. "Vandalism and felony assault of an officer. Ha!" She laughed as another text came through containing Nolan's explanation of the assault. "The guy pushed Nolan off scaffolding onto a jump cushion. He's okay, but still. Wild."

Tim wasn't entertained by her story in the slightest. "Call Nell. Put her on speaker."

Lucy tried not to sigh as she dialed dispatch. Nell's chipper voice pierced through the speaker, setting her teeth on edge.

"Hey Nell. It's me," Tim said, again forcing that flirty tone until his voice was practically dripping with it. "You haven't forgotten about me, have you?"

"Oh, Bradford, ofcourseI haven't," she answered sweetly. Too sweetly. "We've been just a little slow. Oh. Oh wait! We just got a 911 call. DUI hit-and-run, teenage pedestrian severely injured. Black 528i seen heading eastbound on Melrose."

"Perfect. Attach us to that, please," Tim said, then added, "Oh and Nell? You're the best."

Lucy hit end call before Nell had a chance to respond to that and put the phone down a little too hard without paying attention. It slid to the floorboard, landing next to Lucy's feet, but she made no move to retrieve it.

"What is going on with you today?" Tim asked.

"Nothing," she fibbed. Of course, he caught it.

"You can tell me the truth or you can jog behind the shop."

"It's nothing I can't handle, sir," she answered. "Let's just go get this guy."

"Fine," he said, and although he did not seem satisfied by her answer, added, "Keep your eyes peeled for our DUI."

A few minutes passed as they drove, peeking down side streets and alleys looking for their drunk driver. Finally, they spotted the suspect's vehicle barreling recklessly down Melrose.

Lucy called it in. "7-Adam-19, DUI suspect sighted heading east on Melrose," she spoke into the radio. A brief chase followed, ending only when the suspect rounded a corner and collided with a metal gate. The vehicle rolled to a stop a few feet after.

"Watch him, he could try to run," Tim told her as they exited the shop and approached the car. "LAPD. Hands where I can see them."

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," the man inside the vehicle groaned, and Lucy soon saw why.

"Holy shit." Tim looked at the windshield, then at Lucy. "This is a first."

A pole from the gate had pierced the windshield. And the driver.

Lucy felt the blood drain from her face as she reached for her radio a second time and called for an ambulance and the fire department. Once dispatch confirmed the call, she went to the man while Tim returned to the shop for bolt cutters.

"Just hold still. Hang in there. The ambulance will be here soon." She donned gloves, then carefully crawled into the backseat, coming up behind the man to apply pressure near the entry point. The flesh near the wound didn't resist under her palms, making it difficult to stem the bleeding. She just needed to slow the bleeding until EMTs arrived, knowing every second counted with an injury this severe.

"Should I pull it out?" the man stuttered, lifting one blood-covered hand to the pole.

"Don't move," she ordered just as Tim returned.

"Stay still. Three. Two." He snipped on the one, and the majority of the pipe could be removed, except for the part still stuck in the man's torso. Tim tossed the pole aside before reciting the Miranda rights to the driver, following it with the crimes he was suspected of committing. As Tim read through the rights, the ambulance arrived and EMTs took over, allowing Lucy to step out of the vehicle and remove her soiled gloves.

"You're required to provide a chemical sample if suspected of driving while impaled. Sorry! Impaired!" Tim's lip twitched a little as he realized his gaffe. "You can choose between blood, breath, or urine. A refusal will result in the immediate suspension of your license for a minimum of a year."

The driver agreed to the test just as the EMT shouted that they needed to get him into surgery, fast. Tim insisted on a blood draw first, although Lucy tried to make him wait. Tim was resolved on the matter. If they waited, his blood alcohol level would return to normal, he said. If they waited, they'd lose evidence critical to the case against him.

And if they moved now, Lucy thought, Tim would get his first arrest of the day.

She looked up at him, wary and a little uncertain. "So this has nothing to do with the 7 points?"

His eyes narrowed at her implication. "Criminals get hurt all the time, Chen. He doesn't get special treatment for an injury that's his own damn fault. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Good. Now call in our points."

"You were going to get it removed?" Jackson asked Lucy over lunch. Nolan had not yet joined them, as he and Talia were finishing up their latest arrest. She'd decided to reveal the complete events from the night before when they sat down, because there was nothing to hide now.

"How does that even work?" he asked.

"Well, they have this tool that looks like a cross between a staple remover and a speculum-"

"Ew, no. No. Not that part," he interrupted, waving a hand to get her to stop explaining. "I mean, how does that work as far as soulmates go? Does it break your… whatever to Tim? What happens?"

"No, it's not like that," she replied. "All it would do is make his timer go blank."

"What made you change your mind?"

That was a little harder to explain, so she simply said, "Reasons." Then her gaze traveled across the lot to where Tim sat with Lopez.

Jackson followed her gaze, then looked back at her. He understood, at least a little.

"Well, I can't say I wouldn't have been tempted to do the same in your position," Jackson said after a moment, sounding more relieved than ever to have a timer-less wrist.

Just then, Nolan walked up. "Hey what's up."

At this, Jackson grinned. "Oh, you know, just enjoying that sweet, sweet taste of twenty-eight points to you losers seven." Which moved the conversation away from her trip to the doctors office, for which Lucy was thankful.

The rest of the lunch hour passed quickly with most of it spent discussing points and entailing no small amount of competitive ribbing between Jackson and Nolan. Nolan technically wasn't competing because of what Talia had decided, and although they'd hit some early luck, Lopez insisted on making Jackson play a clean game. It made her feel worse about the Nell angle of Tim's plan. When she returned to the shop, her mood was subdued. Naturally, Tim noticed.

"Do I have to worry about your attitude affecting our chances?" he asked. She realized it wasn't asked harshly, but neither did he seem too concerned. Too focused on winning, she figured.

Lucy shook her head. "No, sir. I'm fine."

Of course she wasn't fine, and as a result, Tim wasn't convinced by her saying otherwise. "You understand, right? About earlier with the DUI? That wasn't about points. It was about making sure he sees the inside of a cell. It's important to always maintain perspective on the job."

"To be honest, sir, I wasn't thinking about the driver," she replied, but did not attempt to elaborate further. What good would it do to point out the moral gray area his game plan occupied in the middle of their shift? What could belaboring the point possibly achieve?

Tim was not deterred so easily, though. "I wish you'd just tell me."

"Really?" He nodded. "Okay."You asked for it."It's pretty obvious that Nell has a crush on you, and we're using that to win a game. Feels sort of low to me."

He was quick to defend. "Nell's just doing me a favor."

"Yeah, because she likes you." He could pretend otherwise, but anyone with a brain could sense the designs the pretty dispatch worker had on Tim Bradford.

"It's not like that," Tim tried to insist, but Lucy was quick to contradict him.

"Come on, Bradford. The present? The smiles? 'But I am your favorite'?" There was no way he was ignorant to his own charisma, no matter how put-on it was.

Before Tim could repeat his denials, Nell called. Lucy answered but did not greet the dispatcher, instead letting Tim handle the conversation entirely.

"Hot damn, we're back in it," he said once they'd ended the call, and got the lights and sirens going. Once he noticed that she didn't share his excitement, he chided, "Come on, Boot. A little enthusiasm wouldn't kill you."

So she feigned excitement (albeit poorly), pasted a thin smile on her face, but said nothing.

A brief firefight and one strategically-dispersed can of pepper spray later, and Team Bradford had added fourteen points to their total. They returned to the precinct to process the arrests. When that was done, Tim headed back toward dispatch.

Lucy stopped him. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Nell's shift ends soon," he replied. "I'm going to see if she'll hang around a little longer to help our team."

She fell into stride beside him, although at his pace, it was closer to a jog for her. "I think I should do it." she offered.

That made him stop dead in his tracks. He turned to look at her with a scrutinizing gaze, judging her motives. After a moment, realization dawned on his face, and he smirked. "Oh. I see what's going on here."

"You… you do?" Lucy stammered.

"It's obvious," he replied. "You're jealous of Nell."

That… well, he wasn't wrong, but it wasn't what he thought. Yes, when she first saw her, Lucy envied Nell's height and figure. She thought she had great taste in shoes, and damn did she look good in a brick red lipstick, but that was about the extent of her jealousy. She got the feeling, however, that Nell's fashion sense wasn't what he was thinking about, so she asked, "And why would I be jealous of Nell?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, then added, "You tell me, Boot."

She knew any further protests on her part would not convince him she wasn't jealous; if anything, they would just further entrench that belief, so she conceded. "Fine. Go talk to Nell yourself, then."

Off he went again, this time alone. She watched him go and once he rounded the corner to the hallway where dispatch worked, followed at a distance. She came to a stop just a few feet outside the open door where she could hear every word without being seen.

All told, the conversation was brief. Nell's shift was over, as Tim had said, and she was planning to leave. Tim pleaded with her to stay, which she eventually agreed to at the cost of one drink with him.

Lucy held her breath, anxious to hear how he would respond to this, her most overt move yet. Would he say no?

Shouldn't he?

"Deal," she heard him say.

He left the dispatch office a few seconds later and spotted Lucy immediately. She spoke first.

"Nell seems nice."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about this anymore, Chen," he replied and tried to brush past her.

Lucy caught him by the arm before he could take another step. Maybe it was because she was angry with him, but she didn't feel the heat she'd come to associate with touching him as her fingers grasped around his bicep. She didn't dwell on it, though, too focused on the issue at hand to wonder why the sensation had gone.

"Does she know you're married?" she asked. "Because I don't think she'd be broadcasting her attraction to you the way she is if she knew. You are a married man flirting with a well-meaning woman to get better calls during a game of debatable ethics, and for what? A free beer? Bragging rights?"

He was visibly irritated with her when he asked, "What's your point, Boot?"

"My point?" If he couldn't divine her point from her questions alone, there was a chance he wasn't as perceptive as she believed, but she knew as soon as she thought it that that wasn't true. "My point is you've taught me better than this. You're cunning on the job, but you're not conniving. What you're doing to Nell isn't strategic; it's cruel." She let his arm go. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I guess I didn't expect this kind of thing from you."

Where her earlier comments had landed on deaf ears, this he understood entirely. How could he not? She practically hit him over the head with her meaning, but she took no joy from seeing how her disappointment affected him, and was only able to stand the sight for a moment or two before excusing herself.

"I'll be in the shop," was the last thing she said before leaving him alone in the hall outside dispatch.

"Are you going to be mad at me the whole night?" Tim asked as they entered their eighth hour on patrol.

Lucy looked at him from the passenger seat. "I'm not mad at you."

He scoffed. "Really? Because you sure look mad."

"Okay, like you're one to talk. You always look mad."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. I didn't even know you could smile until this morning," she shot back. It was only a slight exaggeration.

Their argument was cut short as the phone rang. This time, Lucy answered it.

"Hi Nell," she said.

"Officer Chen." Nell tried not to sound disappointed, but didn't quite make it. Lucy didn't take it personally. "Bishop and Nolan just attached to a false alarm. Could be nothing, but could be something."

"Can you send the address to the laptop?" she asked. "Thanks, Nell." Lucy looked over at Tim, then added, "You're the best."

He wasn't entertained by her haughtiness, but she didn't care.

"Nolan and Talia attached to a canceled call," she explained. "That's weird, right?"

He nodded. "Very. Buckle up."

The drive to the address in the call was about ten minutes in the opposite direction they were heading, but Tim took some back roads that made it six. They rolled up to find Nolan and Talia sitting in their patrol vehicle, looking towards a darkened house.

Tim rolled his window down. "Heard you attached to a false alarm. Thought you might need some back up."

"And how did you hear that?" Talia asked. "Did you bribe dispatch again?"

Again.What could Lucy do but laugh? She chuckled to herself, even as Tim shot her a dirty look.

"Just thought you might need backup," he said.

It was a good thing they'd come, because the supposed false alarm was not so false. The man who called 9-1-1 was the banker Talia and Nolan had arrested earlier in the day, and he and his wife were currently being held hostage by mafia members. They called for SWAT, but that would take several minutes. And judging by the way the criminals were threatening Mr. Askari and his wife, those were minutes they didn't have.

They'd have to act fast. They'd have to actnow.

"This way, Boot," Tim motioned her to follow as they made their way to a balcony. Tim went up first and made it to the second level without incident. Lucy was not so lucky, and her stumble could've wrecked the entire rescue. Fortunately, it didn't, and she just hoped that Tim wouldn't hound her on it too much once they got back to the station. He didn't; in fact, he scarcely said a word to her the entire drive back, keeping his eyes forward as he drove.

She tried not to speculate why that might be.

"How do we split up the points?" Lucy overheard Angela asked Talia after their shift had ended. All three women were in the locker room changing out of uniform. Lucy's back was towards the TOs, and her ears perked up when she heard them discussing points. She pretended to look busy with her jewelry.

"I told you," Talia said plainly.

"Okay, but how do I split them up right?"

"Just give him more. He won't notice."

It didn't take a wild guess to figure out who they meant by "he". Lucy turned.

"Are you trying to rig it so Tim wins?" she asked.

A look passed between Talia and Angela. "Why would we do that?" Talia hedged.

"I don't know. I mean, the competition clearly means a lot to him."

"It's personal," Angela replied with a finality Lucy could scarcely argue against. "From when he was a rookie."

If it was from his rookie year, it was easy to figure out what else he connected with the game.

"Is it Isabel?" Both Talia and Angela looked surprised to hear that name leave Lucy's mouth so easily. "I've met her a few times." she explained. "I knew they were rookies together." She stood and shut her locker, then asked, "Do you think holding on to this is what he needs?"

"This contest helps him feel close to her. Do you want to take that away from him?" Angela asked. Her mouth formed a hard line across her face, and her eyes were narrowed and unblinking as she stared down the rookie officer. For the first time, Lucy realized that Lopez was quite protective of Tim. It intimidated her to some extent, but she also felt secretly glad to know he had people in his corner that cared about him.

"I don't want to take anything from him," she replied, shrinking back just a bit from Angela's critical stare. "I just want what's best for him."

"And you know what's best for him, is that it? Because a timer told you so?"

Heat burned in Lucy's cheeks at this accusation. "I never said that, ma'am."

Talia was wise to intervene then, nudging Angela with her shoulder to get the other to stand down. "We've already had one competition today. No need to have another." Then she looked at Lucy. "Can we trust you to keep the points a secret, Boot?"

Lucy nodded. "I won't tell."

The group convened near the food trucks, where Angela made a big show of announcing the winners following what she called "complicated math". Lucy pretended to look surprised when she and Tim were announced the winners, graciously accepting high-fives from Talia and Nolan while Angela hugged Tim. Jackson walked away to sulk. She felt bad about that, but there was nothing she could do; she promised the other TOs she'd keep the truth a secret, and telling him they fudged the numbers would compromise that.

Before she could approach her friend to congratulate him on a good game, Angela walked up to her.

"I'm sorry about that. In the locker room," she said and handed Lucy a drink.

She grabbed it a little too quickly, making some of the foam slosh down the sides."Oh, shit. Thanks. And it's okay. You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do." Angela replied, and she looked truly remorseful as she explained. "I've known Tim for years, longer even than I've known Talia. For a long time, it was him and me and our fucked up timers against the world." She took a gulp from her drink and wiped the moisture off with the back of her hand. "I guess I still get a little territorial over him."

Lucy was tempted to ask what she meant byfucked up timers, but held off. Instead, she said, "I didn't know you have a timer."

Angela was happy to show it to her. "I've got two months left until Mr. Right comes along. Or Mrs. I'm not picky." She appeared wistful for a moment, an expression that faded as she looked at Lucy. "I can't tell you much about what he did, just because it's not my place to say. Hell, he'd probably deny half of it. The gist was I had a long countdown ahead of me, and Tim was eight years into a fourteen year countdown, so he knew a little something about long waits. Anyway, he helped me get through it. Always felt like I owed him after that."

She wondered if Angela would've been this forthcoming if she hadn't snapped at her in the locker room; like absorbing her ire had been a proving ground of sorts. "I'm just glad he has people that care about him. Someone that cares enough to protect him even when he isn't there." She looked across the lot. At the opposite end, Tim was talking to Nell. From the looks of it, Lucy guessed they were about to have their agreed upon drink. "He can be a jackass sometimes, but I think he's got a good heart."

When Lucy glanced back at Angela, she noticed the other woman was fighting a grin.

"You really have him pegged, don't you, Boot?" Before she could respond to that, Angela continued. "What do you think is going to happen with you two?"

If she had asked her that a month ago, Lucy wouldn't have known how to respond. Now, she answered, "I think he's going to make me a great cop. And if he'll let me, I think we'll be good friends."

Something in her answer pleased Angela. She cocked her head to one side and took a sip of her beer, smirking all the while. "Is that all you want?"

At the moment, yes. More importantly, it was all their current circumstances allowed. "He's married," she stated. "He loves Isabel. Timer or no timer, I can't in good conscience get in the way more than I already have."

The smirk deepened into a true smile. Her response had impressed Angela, and Lucy got the feeling that that was an important seal of approval to earn.

"You're a good woman, Chen," Angela declared, and pulled her into a quick hug. "I'm glad I don't have to threaten to hurt you."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome." Angela pulled away just as Tim joined them. "Oh, speak of the handsome devil."

He frowned. "How many have you had?" He asked, pointing to her beer.

"This is my first. You know this is just my personality, Bradford. Although," she paused and drained the remainder of her drink, then handed Tim her empty cup, "if you'll excuse me, I need a refill."

Once she was gone, Tim chuckled. "She is a mess," he said, then looked to Lucy. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I already told you I wasn't mad at you, Bradford."

"Tim," he corrected. "We're off work. You can call me Tim now."

"I already told you I wasn't mad at you,Tim," she repeated. "I was just disappointed."

"Would you be less disappointed if I told you I came clean to Nell?" When a smile started to slowly spread over Lucy's face, Tim laughed. "Yeah. I thought so."

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth. That I'm married, but it's complicated."

"And did you get your drink?"

He winced. "No. Surprisingly enough, she didn't want to get a drink with a married man."

"I can't say I blame her," Lucy replied. "But also, her loss."

"Her loss?"

"You see, I have no such qualms."

"You also already have a drink."

She took that statement as a challenge, promptly chugged her beer, then placed her cup in Tim's hand. Now he held both her empty container as well as Angela's, and was staring at her with a bemused expression.

"You're as bad as Lopez," he teased.

"There are worse things to be compared to. Let's get you your drink."

She marched him over to the food truck and ordered two more beers. Tim tried to grab his as the man passed them through the window, but she batted his hand away.

"This is my treat," she said.

"We won the competition. It's not your treat. It's free."

"Shush." She held his beer back, cheating her shoulder to keep the cup just out of his reach. "Do you promise to never use your wiles for evil ever again?"

"Mywiles?"

"Promise, Tim."

"Okay, okay. I promise." He pretended to look pained doing so.

She smiled. "Good. You can have your beer."

He took it from her hand, and as he did, their fingers brushed. Again, Lucy noticed the conspicuous absence of the heat she'd come to expect from touching him.

"Wait a second," she said, and put her hand on his upper arm. Nothing. Same thing when she wrapped her fingers around his wrist. "Huh. That's weird."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Um, remember that heat I told you about?" She dropped her arm. "I don't feel it anymore."

"Oh." A look of confusion crossed his face. "What do you think that means?"

"Probably nothing," she said quickly, as if he was depending on her reassurance. "My dad felt heat with my mom, but it didn't last. I think he said only a few days or so. It probably just faded naturally like his did." A thought came to mind, and she chortled. "Or maybe you finally pissed me off enough to make it stop."

"See? I knew you were mad at me."

"Well, of course I was mad at you, Tim!" she exclaimed, but waved her hand and moved on. "It's fine now. You apologized-"

"- I did not apologize."

"- And you promised not to do it again."

"But I'll probably break that promise, because I don't know if you've noticed," he leaned in and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, "I like winning."

"Whatever. Like I said, as long as you don't use your wiles for evil."

"You keep saying that word, and I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Oh, so you're just that charming without effort? Really, Tim?" She took a sip of her beer as she waited for his defense. None came. "Yeah. I thought so."

Drinks in hand, they returned to the group, which had congregated around one of the picnic tables. Jackson had gotten past his sulk and now sat beside Nolan on one of the benches. Talia and Angela stood in a pair beside it, but Talia was angled in such a way that her back was to Tim and Lucy when they joined them. Angela had the better view and watched them walk the whole way up, that telling smirk from before still on her face.

They stayed there for a good, long while to celebrate Team Bradford's win. Sometime during Tim's retelling of the the armored car fiasco, Lucy's phone rang. It was her mother again. She declined the call, but stepped away to respond via text.

Sorry Mom. At a work thing. Since I know you're probably calling about Thanksgiving again I'll go ahead and tell you I won't be inviting him. It's not the right time. That's all I can say. Maybe one day but not now.

She expected her mother to mull over her response and began to walk back towards the picnic tables when her phone buzzed in her palm. Her mother had replied.

Are you afraid we won't like him?

That was the last thing on her mind. In fact, she was fairly certain her mother would take one look at Tim and fall head over heels.

That's not it.

Can't you at least tell me his name? Or something about him? I promise I won't go snooping.

Given her experience with her mom, Lucy was cautious to believe her promise of not snooping… but she also knew submitting to her request now might buy her more time before she next badgered Lucy to let her meet him. Besides, how much digging could her mother really do with just a name to go on?

Tim.she replied.His name is Tim.

Chapter 9: A Date for Lucy

Notes:

"It's been my fashion to keep my head dry and get my feet wet
Step by step I've been letting you lead me to the deep end
Well, I learned my lesson, honey
Just when you think you're all adult swim
Is precisely when somebody shows you to the ocean"
- "Aquaman", Walk the Moon

Chapter Text

After a month that felt non-stop, for almost a week to pass without incident was disconcerting rather than comforting. Lucy worked during the days and studied at night. Sometimes she joined Nolan and Jackson for study sessions, but a portion of the time was spent on her own. She and Tim continued to get along, forming a functional working relationship and a tentative bond. They weren't "besties" or anything by any stretch, but the relationship between them wasn't nearly as contentious as it had been. She considered it a battle won, and on day five, made the mistake of assuming life had settled down at last.

Then six days after their roundup victory, Lucy's mother sent her a screenshot.

She didn't even know her mother knew how to do screenshots; she had never been very tech-savvy, after all. At a glance, she figured it was an error. It was only when Lucy looked closer that she realized the screenshot was of a Facebook page, and the Facebook page belonged to Tim.

A single comment from Mom accompanied the picture.He's very handsome.

Lucy called her immediately.

"Mom," she began the second her mother answered, "you promised you wouldn't snoop."

"I didn't," her mother protested.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," she insisted, then added, "Your father did. You know I'm not on the Facebook."

Lucy groaned. "It's just 'Facebook'. You told Dad?"

"Well, of course I told him! You can't expect me to keep secrets from my husband." If Lucy had known that her mother would involve her father, she would've taken preventative measures, like giving them a fake name. Or moving.

"How did you even find him?" she asked.

"There are only so many Tims working in the Mid-Wilshire precinct." How had they figuredthatout? Lucy had never specified where she was assigned (rightly guessing it would lead to breaches of her privacy). As if sensing her question, her mother explained. "We may have emailed Jackson asking where you were sent for the rest of your training."

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Lucy's hand flew to her forehead, connecting with a smack as she moaned, "Oh, dear God."

"Everything else we could find, we found on the internet." Mom continued. "People really aren't careful about what they put on here, but not your Tim." She tutted once. "He keeps his page locked up."

"He's not my Tim, Mother." she groused.

"Oh, I can see that. Who is this woman in his profile picture?"

Lucy pulled the phone away from her ear to zoom in on the picture in question. It was Tim, but his arm was around a blonde she recognized. "That's Isabel. His wife."

Her mother tsked in her ear twice. "What a shame. I can understand why you didn't want us to meet him." Then with a sigh, she suggested, "Perhaps we can get a refund."

Lucy blinked, quickly confused by the turn of their conversation. Her mother had always been the biggest proponent of timers. Hell, Lucy getting one as a teenager had been her idea. "What?"

"He's a married man, Lucy. There's obviously been some sort of mistake. He can't be your soulmate."

Her confusion morphed into disbelief. "Mom, no. There's been no mistake."

"Oh, Lucy, how would you know?"

She took a deep breath and weighed how much she wanted to tell her mother. If she took a step back, Lucy recognized there were tiers to the connection she and Tim had, and parts of it were not necessary for her to share. Her mother didn't need to know that Tim was her training officer, or that they'd met during roll call, and it was certainly no business of hers that Lucy had already met Isabel twice under unfortunate circumstances.

There was also the fact that by second-guessing Lucy, her mother had essentially undermined her own understanding of her feelings. Rather than raise a fuss, she decided to be gracious and overlook it for now (but if it persisted, she'd have no choice but to put her foot down). "I just know, Mom. Okay? I knew it the second I laid eyes on him." She hoped her mother would not ask for more specifics.

Thankfully, she refrained, and only wondered aloud, "Did he feel it, too?"

This Lucy felt safe answering, and could answer pretty vaguely. "Yes. Took him a while to admit it, but yes." She let the confirmation resonate, then added, "It doesn't change anything, though. He's married. He loves his wife, Mom. He loves her so much."And sometimes to his own detriment.she thought, as memories of her encounters with Isabel sprang to mind unbidden.

A few minutes passed where neither Lucy or her mother said anything. Finally, Mom stated, "Well, if you're absolutely sure nothing will ever happen between the two of you, maybe it's time for you to start dating."

"'Start dating'? I've dated before, Mom."

"Yes, I remember," her mother replied with obvious disdain. "Twice in high school and once in college. Bah! Those were boys. You should date a man this time."

She began to disagree, then paused and recognized begrudgingly her mother might have had a point. After all, what did she have to lose? Tim had dated, hadn't he? Not only dated, he'd gotten married. Turnabout being fair play and all that, wasn't she entitled to a few dates herself?

Still, she felt hesitant. The last relationship with a boyfriend she'd had was pretty serious, or as serious as one could be at the age of twenty-one with seven or so years left on her timer. She didn't think she had the capacity for flings, but she also didn't want to jump right into the deep end.

"I'll think about it," she said, and her response was met with such an overjoyed squeal from her mother that she knew the inch she'd conceded was taken as total agreement.

"Wonderful! I'm so glad you agree. Now, there is this young pediatrician in my office building-"

"Mom," she warned, stopping her before she could go farther. "I'm not letting you fix me up." Her mother was already too invested in her love life; it was better to put a stop to that where she could, while she could. "I'm sure Jackson has a friend he could set me up with."

"Oh, Jackson! I was so happy to speak with him for a minute the other day. How is he doing? How is John?"

Lucy was grateful then that the conversation turned away from her own failed romantic life, and was happy to get her mother up to speed on how both Jackson and Nolan were fairing in the program. When their call ended an hour later, both were in much better spirits, with hermother reminding her about Thanksgiving dinner next week and to give Jackson a call about a set-up.

She didn't call, but she did text.

Hey, so. This'll sound out of left field but do you have any friends you could set me up with?She asked.

She hadn't expected a quick reply, but his response was sent rapidly and with way more enthusiasm that she anticipated.

Yes! Yes, absolutely! I've got a few in mind already that would be just perfect for you. What's your type?

Lucy had never thought about that before. The few guys she'd dated had been taller than her, but that wasn't hard at five-foot-four. All three had had black hair. One of them had played guitar. Did that mean she liked musicians? But then how would that explain her fitness-obsessed boyfriend in college?

I don't think I have a type.she replied.Someone interesting, I guess? Is not an asshole a type?

… It's not *not* a type.

Ok, then that. Not an asshole and interesting.

The bar is literally on the floor with that, Lucy. You don't want to add anything else? Do you care about beards or muscles? Or tattoos?

She took a second to think about it, but none of those things bothered her. Neither did they attract her. She guessed she was sort of neutral about the appearance of a guy and was about to say so when she paused. As shallow as she felt upon realizing it, there was one physical trait that was an absolute nonstarter for her, so she requested its opposite.

Brown eyes.

"I have the guy for you," Jackson informed Lucy the moment she entered the briefing room. She hadn't even taken her seat yet when he took out his phone and pulled up an instagram page. "His name is Cam Wellings. He's a fitness instructor at the gym I go to."

She didn't scroll far down the page, pausing on the second photo on his grid. It was a professional headshot taken in the gym he worked at, so he stood next to the weight rack. From what she gathered, he was pretty tall. A couple inches over six foot, she estimated. Tan skin contrasted his smile, and two deep dimples sat equidistant on either side of his mouth. He sported an attractive amount of short scruff; not a beard by any means, but neither was he clean-shaven. Short black waves crowned his head, and his grin caused attractive lines to form around his warm brown eyes.

Her jaw dropped. "Holy shit, Jackson."

He nodded with a grin. "I know."

"He'sgorgeous."

"Iknow."He took his phone back. "He'll meet you at 8 at Seaside on the Pier."

Lucy blinked. "You scheduled a date already?"

He looked at her askance. "Yeah. I wasn't about to let you lose your nerve."

"What if I had plans?"

Jackson scoffed. "Do you?" She didn't, and so said nothing. "I thought so."

Before she could protest further, Nolan joined them at the front of the room. "Good morning," he said brightly. "What's up."

She had started to say "nothing" when Jackson interrupted. "Lucy has a date tonight," he said proudly.

Nolan looked at Lucy. "A date? Really? Anyone I know?"

She shook her head, feeling a little frazzled. "Jackson set it up."

"Yeah, I did." He sounded proud of himself and had just started to tell Nolan more details when Sergeant Grey entered the room, putting a stop to all conversations.

"Eyes on the road, Boot."

So came Tim's order later that day as she maneuvered down the highway. As luck would have it, he'd decided after roll call that today was the right day for her to give driving a shot. She was rightfully nervous, desperate to do a good job. That combined with her anxiety over suddenly having a date with a handsome stranger that evening, compounding until her stomach felt like a jumbled ball of nerves she couldn't untangle.

"Sorry," she said, tightening her grip on the wheel.

Tim glanced at her tense positioning. "Something on your mind?"

She shook her head once. "No, sir."

He didn't believe her. That much was clear by the way he maintained his stare, but he didn't ask more, and she was glad for that. She had no idea how she would explain her date to him. That was, if he even cared, which he probably didn't, because this was Tim. Even though they'd come to some sort of understanding, he still made it clear whenever necessary (which wasn't often) that he was married and had no intention of changing that any time soon.

With only a few hours left in their shift, Lucy rolled their vehicle. She hadn't meant to, obviously. It just sort of happened after she tried pull over a reckless driver. He gave chase and during the pursuit, she took a corner a little too hard. Tim was giving her orders and safety reminders the whole time, but despite his cautions and directions, she still underestimated how top-heavy the shop was. They went over, turned one and a half times, and came to a stop upside-down.

"That go how you planned it, Boot?" Tim said to her drily before radioing for help.

Extracting them from the vehicle took a while. So did the precautionary exam from EMTs on the scene. By the time all was said and done, only two hours remained in their workday. For the shame of rolling on her first day of driving, Lucy was assigned to the drunk tank. Shock of shocks, being surrounded by the smell of vomit did nothing to improve her jitters, but she was determined to make the best of it. She scrubbed meticulously, tried not to grimace as the mop slid over grime and gunk, and occupied her mind by planning her outfit for the evening. According to Jackson, Cam would meet her at a restaurant on the Santa Monica Pier. It was a little busier than she'd usually go for in a first date, but she wasn't going to try to change the plan so close to go time. She wondered how the weather would be that night.

A knock on the door broke her out of her thinking. Tim stood in the doorway, but wisely stepped no closer. She noticed his nose crinkled at the smell, which she tried not to take personally. She'd mopped twice and still the stench remained.

"Shift ends in thirty and you still got paperwork. You about done?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He glanced out the door, first checking left, then right. When he looked at her again, his gaze revealed a touch of worry. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "Just a little sore." Sore, with a big blue bruise on her left shoulder from where the seatbelt had dug into her skin, and of course embarrassed. "You?"

"Been through worse." He chuckled joylessly. "See to that paperwork, then go get rested up for tomorrow, ok?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

She made quick work of the filing, then rushed through a shower, touched up her makeup, and bolted for home. Once there, she quickly slipped into her only little black dress. It was a fitted number, hugging every curve from just above her knee to her shoulders, and she'd bought it a month before her timer went off. The tags were still on it, dangling from the seam on the side by a ribbon and easily torn off. Being that it was November and a touch too chilly for bare arms, she added her blush colored leather jacket to the ensemble. Once she stepped into her nicest high heels and gave herself a glance in the closet mirror, Lucy called it good enough and was out the door.

Cam's picture really,reallydidn't do him justice.

Lucy had expected him to be tall, but he cleared her by almost a foot when he stood to greet her as she walked towards him, having been directed by the hostess to their table. She was glad she'd chosen the black dress seeing as he'd dressed up a bit for the occasion as well. He sported a patterned button-down under a blue sweater with a pair of tailored slacks. She knew from scanning his instagram page that he was fit, but his outfit only hinted at his body, except for his arms. He'd rolled the sleeves on his sweater up halfway, revealing the tanned skin and the slight muscle of his forearms. At a quick glance, she saw no timer on his wrist and was relieved, having taken care to hide hers under Nolan's watch once again.

"Lucy," he said as she reached the table. Her pulse jumped as he smiled at her.

"Cam." She held her hand out to shake his and took note of how hers felt when he took it. His hand dwarfed hers, rough in places thanks to his job, but soft in others, and warm. Not a fire, she thought to herself, but why would it be? It was unreasonable -unfair, even- to seek that feeling from anyone else.

They talked over dinner, dessert, and through two drinks each, ending the night with a walk on the pier. They were lucky that, while mid-November, the weather cooperated enough for both of them to keep warm on the walk. At some point he asked to put his arm around her shoulder, and without pausing she let him. It was easy to curl into his side, and a few minutes later she wound her arm around his waist.

Cam kept the pace slow, almost meandering, and continued to talk as they went. He told Lucy about how he ended up in fitness following a modeling career that failed to take off. Lucy explained how she became a police officer after deciding to abandon her psychologist goals halfway through her master's program. There was an ease to their conversation, an instant rapport, and she almost tripped over her own feet at the thought because she knew where she had heard that before.

She had managed not to think of Tim the whole night and was disappointed in herself for doing so now.

"Look, Cam," she began, simultaneously pulling back from under his arm. "Um, I've had a really nice time tonight."

"I've had a nice time, too," he replied.

"Good. Good, I'm so glad… but, I have to tell you something." She looked up at him and hesitated, debating how to broach the subject of her timer. Would he ask about her soulmate? That would inevitably lead to her revealing the enmeshment of both with her job, and that was too much for a first date. She gulped once before he interrupted her.

"Is it about your timer?" he asked, then smiled.

Lucy blinked, briefly overcome by disbelief. "Did Jackson tell you?"

"No, but," he took gentle hold of her wrist and pointed to Nolan's watch on her left arm, "I know a man's watch when I see one, and I can't imagine you'd wear this unless you had something you thought you needed to conceal."

She covered as much of the band as she could with her other hand. "Would you believe me if I said it was a long story?"

He covered her fingers with his own. "Lucy, you could tell me the sun rises in the west and I think I'd believe you."

At that, Lucy laughed, even though his blatant flirtation made her blush. "Wow. That was quite a line."

He didn't look ashamed in light of her teasing; in fact, he appeared pleased with himself for having made her laugh. "Did it work?"

She shot him a single sidelong glance. "I'll have to let you know." Then, with a pull on his arm, she said, "Come on. Walk me to my car? I've got an early shift and I'm sure you've got… I don't know. Weights to lift?"

He chuckled. "I teach a morning class tomorrow. Lead the way."

The rest of the walk passed in pleasant, companionable silence. While his arm was no longer around her shoulders, Cam now held her hand, and Lucy was pleased to discover she liked that just as much. They parted with polite goodbyes and a promise to see each other again soon. She had just buckled her seatbelt when her phone buzzed in her bag. It was Cam.

Too soon to text?he asked.

She grinned and looked out her driver's side window. He was walking away, phone in his hands, and even from a distance Lucy could see the dopey smile on his face.

Not at all.she texted back.Your timing is perfect.

Lucy replayed the evening in her mind as she drove home, combing over the night from beginning to end. Cam had been a perfect date the entire evening; smart, courteous, talkative, and inquisitive. He was also handsome ashell.He looked like he'd walked off the cover of a romance novel, and while that hadn't been on her list, suffice it to say she certainly wasn't angry about it. He held doors for her, asked before initiating physical contact, and didn't try to kiss her goodnight when they went their separate ways. She couldn't have dreamed a more perfect guy.

Overall, the date itself had been good. Maybe not great, but that could be because her standards were skewed by being out of practice. He was attractive, he'd been charming, and she'd had fun, and by the end she considered him a friend. It wasn't hard to imagine that evolving into more with time and care.

She sighed. And still…

Still, it was nothing like fire and enveloping silence, blue eyes andI always see yous. It was comfortable, and easy, and almost familiar how well they fell into step with one another in both figurative and literal ways. Put more simply, it was nice, but would that be enough?

She didn't know for sure, but Lucy wanted to believe it could be. With the right guy, and at the right time, it could be. It would be.

It would have to be.

Lucy was intentional in arriving early the next day to make it up to Tim. Larger fuck ups (like failure to restrain a suspect properly, or crashing your shop on the first day driving) earned grief from the other officers for both the rookie and their training officer. For all the teasing she'd get that day, he would get as much and possibly even more. She guessed it would put him in a bad mood and decided to load up their shop early as an olive branch, then reported to the briefing room.

Tim was already there ready to give her a rundown; but first, he wanted to ask how she was feeling. Did she rest the night before?

"I'm fine," she insisted when he forced the issue, but did not lie and say she rested when she had not. "A little bruise on my arm, but I hurt my pride more than anything else. How are you?"

Tim somehow managed to look both stern and entertained as he replied, "I'll be better if you never drive again."

Well. She couldn't say she didn't earn that particular dig.

Before she could respond (she planned to once more apologize profusely) Jackson entered the room, practically vibrating with energy as he walked up to Lucy. He was so excited to hear how her date went that he failed to realize she was already having a conversation with Tim.

"Wait. What date?" Tim asked Lucy. "When did you have a date?"

Dammit.

"Uh…" Panic clouded Jackson's face. "Did… I say date? I meant… well, damn. It's really hard to think of things that rhyme with date on the fly." He looked at Lucy with pleading eyes.

She faced her TO, squaring up to him before she stated, "I had a date last night." as nonchalantly as possible. Then she pulled her notebook out of her pocket, flipped to a blank page, and pretended to be ready for notes. "What's on the agenda today, sir?"

Not so much as a scribble made it into the notebook, though, because ten seconds later, Nolan and Bishop entered the room discussing Officer Hawke. Lucy groaned almost on instinct upon hearing the veteran officer's name. They'd all sat under his instruction at the academy, and she'd loathed every second. How he had become a teacher was beyond her, considering he had very little practical insight into the job and was more concerned with pretending to be John McClane than policing effectively.

Learning that Tim had worked with Hawke in close proximity didn't surprise her, but neither did it impress her. Rather, she was grateful some of the other officer's habits had not rubbed off on her TO in a noticeable way.

"Nolan and Hawke hung out last night," Talia said, bringing Lucy back to the present with a jolt. Ugh. Really? She loved how friendly Nolan was, but its downside was sometimes he had no standards for the company he kept.

"Hawke and Nolan?" Bradford scoffed.

"Oh yeah," Lucy confirmed. "They were close at the academy. Bonded over… I don't know. A shared interest in old stuff?"

At this, Nolan objected. "The Beastie Boys isn't old."

She patted his arm playfully. "They formed before I was born, but okay."

Once again, Sergeant Grey was Lucy's personal version of being saved by the bell. He entered the room and started in with the day's orders immediately. She had no time to dwell on her date the night before, or Jackson blowing up her spot, or (oddest of all) the Beastie Boys as their superior handed out assignments.

Tim and Lucy were given a search warrant for one LeShawn Halvorsen. His apartment was a fifteen minute drive from the precinct, which Tim took as an opportunity to ask questions about her date.

"So… a date," he began, then trailed off, as if that minuscule sentence were an entire question on its own.

Lucy was glad they'd laid a boundary long before her date with Cam. It made it easier to resist his inquiries. "Yes," was all she responded with.

"Didn't know you were dating, I guess."

"You didn't ask, sir." The sir was a little more pointed than it needed to be, she admitted to herself, but oh well. They had an agreement. A boundary. He didn't get to compromise it just because he wanted to hear about her nightlife.

"Yeah, okay." He gave in quickly, and she was almost disappointed. She expected a little more fight from him.

They soon arrived at their suspect's apartment complex; a truly seedy place. Just walking in to the building made Lucy feel like she needed a shower. Halvorsen's apartment was no better. There was a fetid smell that assaulted her senses the moment Tim broke down the door, and it didn't improve the longer they were in the apartment. Nose-blindness had a limit, apparently. While Tim detained LeShawn, she searched for the money he'd stolen, crawling on her hands and knees over the filthy carpet. As if that weren't vile enough, when her initial search turned up no results, Tim had a disgusting suggestion. No, disgust wasn't the right word. Grotesque was more accurate.

"Saw a box of sex toys in the master bedroom," he told her, his lips quirking a little as he saw her face fall in disbelief. "You might want to glove up."

When it became clear he wasn't kidding (and she stood there, stock still for a good ten seconds, waiting for him to say "gotcha"), Lucy put on gloves and went to the master bedroom.

The box of toys were not well hidden, and dear Lord, did LeShawn have no sense of hygiene at all? It took all her fortitude not to vomit as she rifled through dildos and vibrators, still slick with… Nope. No. She wouldn't even think it.

No matter how foul the box of toys proved to be, neither that or the toilet turned up any results. She returned to the living room empty handed, and was furious to see Tim seated with the stolen items on the table.

"What. The. Hell," she bit out.

Tim had the audacity to look innocent. "What?"

"I've been back there for twenty minutes, elbow deep in Caligula's toy chest, and you've had this the whole time?" If her tone took on a frantic edge, she'd apologize for it later.

Tim smirked. "Whoops."

Her hands balled into fists at her sides, making an awful squelching sound as they did, reminding her that her blue latex gloves still bore the evidence of Halvorsen's depravity. Again, bile rose into the back of her throat until she peeled off the gloves and tossed them aside.

She would've loved a shower (and to bleach her brain), but she was given only a minute to compose herself before Tim ordered her back on her feet. They had their evidence and LeShawn needed to be taken in for questioning. They returned to the precinct with the stolen money, merchandise, and suspect, and were back out on the street within the hour.

It would've been better if they'd stayed put, Lucy soon learned. A call from dispatch came. Hawke was on the run. The same Hawke that had trained her, that had trained Nolan, that had worked with Tim. She hadn't expected the hurt look that crossed his face upon hearing that they needed to bring in his one-time partner. Even if she had, it wouldn't have made it any less painful.

"I can't believe we're hunting Jeremy Hawke," he confessed as they pulled up to a vehicle dispatch had pinged for his cell phone. "I mean, the man bleeds LAPD."

Lucy said nothing. What good would contradicting Tim do? He had his own opinions of the guy; he had only good things to say about him, and yet he'd let Tim down. She didn't need to rub salt in the wound by stating her opinion of him.

The ping led them to an RV parked by the curb outside a motel. It was an older RV with Utah plates, and from the BOLO they knew Hawke drove a truck. It felt like a diversion, but they'd need to confirm.

Tim knocked on the RV door and after a minute, was greeted by a stranger, not Hawke. With his permission, they searched the exterior of the camper. It didn't take long for them to find Hawke's phone.

"He knew we'd track his cell," Tim said, "so he planted it on someone going anywhere he's not."

"He's thinking like a criminal."

"Worse. Like a criminal cop." His face hardened as he said it, replacing his earlier disbelief with anger.

The rapid change was so startling, Lucy asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, then cleared his throat and pocketed Hawke's phone. "Come on. We gotta check in with the Captain, let her know this was a dead end."

On the chief's orders, all their efforts were diverted to finding Hawke as quickly and quietly as possible. Which was harder than it sounded when a cop like him -smart and resourceful, but also a little unhinged- decided to break bad. Talia and Nolan got close to apprehending him, but their effort fell apart when they realized Hawke's son was in his truck. That info coming over the radio turned Tim's anger into palpable rage.

"That motherfucker," he said through clenched teeth. His fists tightened on the wheel as he drove toward's Nolan and Bishop's location. "7-Adam-19, we're on intercept course with Hawke's truck. Three blocks out and closing."

Lucy clutched the handlebar above her seat as Tim stepped on the gas. "Is this safe with Hawke's kid in the car?"

"Hawke doesn't know we've blocked the streets or that we're turning the lights green to funnel him toward us. To him, it looks like we've fallen back into track mode."

"And all the green lights won't look suspicious?"

"He won't notice," Tim answered confidently. "It will appear to be nothing."

It was a decent enough plan, and just might work. "You've got a tactic for every situation, huh?" Then she asked, "What if you get robbed at gunpoint?"

"Easy." Even though they were currently engaged in a pursuit, Tim never turned down an opportunity to brag about his own cleverness. "I carry an empty wallet. Drop the fake, pull my piece, and goodnight nurse."

"Then where do you keep your cards and money?"

"Money clip behind my belt."

"Okay, you're officially weird," she said with a short chuckle but quickly sobered. They were nearing the interception point.

Then Hawke took a hard left, and their carefully laid trap went up in smoke. Tim guessed that he must still have access to his police radio. This theory was soon proven correct as Nolan reached out to him by name, and he responded.

It was worse than they could've guessed. Not only was Hawke running, but his son was a willing participant; not a hostage like they'd feared.

Since they couldn't use the radios without Hawke hearing, Talia called Lucy's phone. The four of them theorized what Hawke's plan could be. Tim had the best pulse on what Hawke might do based on the summer they worked as a duo, but it was Nolan who deduced they were going to the mall because of the cover from airships and foot patrol the parking garage and crowds provided.

As they ran into the Fair Street Mall, Tim radioed for backup. The crowd parted for the officers as they hurried through. Nolan and Talia went after Hawke while Lucy and Tim hurried to secure a perimeter, involving mall security as their aid until additional units arrived.

They worked fast, but Hawke still managed to elude them, although his son Logan was now in their care. The other units and Sergeant Grey had come. Logan was sent back to the station with one of the teams while the rest convened to discuss what to do now. Again, they ran through the possible ways he could continue to escape the police.

"I'd steal a car, get lost in the stream heading out," Lucy suggested.

Bishop had her own ideas. "Change clothes, pull the fire alarm. Easier to blend in with the fleeing crowd."

"Sewer system," Tim said, and Lucy cringed. Of course he would come up with something extreme.

A call came over Grey's radio, interrupting the discussion, with a report of a gunman six blocks away.

"That's how I'd do it," Nolan exclaimed. "Call in a false report. Pulls manpower away, divides our resources, frees up an exit. That's Hawke."

Lucy though it was as sound an idea as any, but Sergeant Grey took a little more convincing. It was Tim throwing his support behind Nolan's instinct that clinched it, and they moved forward with a plan that lulled Hawke into a false sense of security by having some units pretend to answer the fake call.

The remaining units split up to stealth-search the garage. Lucy lost sight of Tim between the cars, but it wasn't long before she heard the sounds of an argument, followed by a scuffle.

Both Talia and Lucy reached Hawke at the same time, where he had engaged both Nolan and Tim in some testosterone-fueled test of manhood.

"Hey!" Talia said as she walked towards the group, releasing a stream of pepper spray into Hawke's face. Even blinded, he still tried to swing at Tim, so Lucy tased him and stopped him once and for all.

If anyone asked, she didn't find tasing him satisfying. In truth, it was incredibly cathartic.

She kept her stance while Talia bent down to cuff Hawke. As she placed the clasps around his wrists, she shot a dirty look at both Tim and Nolan. "You were supposed to arrest him, not get in a brawl."

Once Nolan and Talia had marched him away, Lucy walked up to Tim. "Are you all right?" A few of Hawke's punches had connected. His lip was split, his uniform rumpled, and he'd have one hell of a shiner on his right eye if he didn't get ice on it soon.

"I'm fine," he replied, but winced as he gently prodded the bruise on his cheekbone.

"Well at least you gave it back as good as you got it, right?" She'd meant it to sound light, but he didn't even crack a smile. "I'm sorry. I know you really respect Officer Hawke."

"Yeah. I did."

She cleared her throat once. "I've gotta be honest with you. I didn't like Hawke. I had him at the academy and I thought he was full of shit. I've worked with a lot of cops at this point, and he wasn't the best one by a long shot."

He must have realized she was trying to make him feel better, so he smiled more for her sake than his own. "And who's the best one?"

"Bishop," she replied without missing a beat, which earned her a genuine laugh from him. "But you're a close second. Hawke wanted to be a badass and he thought that's what made him a good cop. Everything he taught at the academy revolved around that idea. But you don't do that, Tim. From everything you've shown me, you try be a good man, and that makes you a great cop."

To her surprise, he went a little pink upon hearing her praise. "Thanks, Chen. That means a lot." He quickly soured the mood when he added, "But don't think this means I've forgiven you for wrecking."

Rather than quip back something witty and biting, Lucy took it in stride. "Don't worry, sir. I'd never expect that from you." She patted his back twice as they turned to walk back to the shop.

Her hand was still on Tim's back between his shoulder blades when she remembered what he said about his money clip. She glanced down and, sure enough, could see the clasp shining against the black leather belt. All it took was a little fast, deft maneuvering, and then the clip was in her hands and on its way into her pocket with Tim none the wiser. She couldn't help the small giggle that escaped her lips, although she tried to hide it behind her hand.

Tim still heard it and looked back at her. "Something funny?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

"Uh huh. Not sure I believe that." A moment followed where they walked in silence, then Tim asked, "Did it have anything to do with your date?"

"What?"

"You laughing just then. You thinking about your date?"

"Actually, no," she replied, then asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't," he retorted, "as long as it doesn't affect your ability to do the job."

"It wont."

"Good." Another few steps. "So, what's his name?" When she didn't reply right away, Tim looked at her, indicating that he was waiting for her to answer.

"Uh, Cam. Cam Wellings."

He snickered. "What kind of name is that. 'Cam'."

She knew he was trying to rile her up, but Lucy couldn't help but get a little defensive on Cam's behalf. "It's a normal name."

"Cam Wellings. Isn't that the name of that one guy on 'Frasier'?"

"Okay, if you're going to be mean, I don't want to talk about it," she replied. For good measure, she jabbed, "And 'Frasier', really? You and Nolan should talk more about your love of old stuff."

At this, Tim took umbrage. "'Frasier' is not that old."

"If it's from before 1995, I probably don't remember it."

This made Tim ask, "Just how old are you?"

It was a question they'd managed to avoid thus far. She knew there was a gap between them, but had no clue how large. "Twenty-eight." Lucy replied, then asked, "How old are you?"

"Thirty-eight." he answered. "Well, that explains why you keep calling the good music and shows old. It's not old, you just missed it."

Lucy did some quick calculating in her head. "So you were twenty-four when you got your timer?"

He paused. "… No. Bit younger than that."

That didn't make sense. "But the timer only counted down for fourteen years."

"Yours did," he replied. "I had a blank timer for the first six years."

Lucy's jaw dropped. "Your timer was blank for six years?" Would he ever stop surprising her? "I'm sorry, I'm just a little mind-blown. What made you keep it? Why did you wait?"

He didn't answer, and to her disappointment, deflected instead. "Come on. We should get back. If we hurry we can run your boyfriend's name through the database before our shift ends. See what we find."

Lucy wasn't ready to let the topic drop, but knew by now that once Tim decided he was done talking about any given thing, nothing could change his mind. She didn't like being deferred yet again, but still followed as he picked up the pace. "We are not running his name through the database."

"Oh yes we are."

They argued the point the rest of the walk back to the shop. Tim insisted that it was a common practice for cops to look at rap sheets for potential significant others, but Lucy maintained she didn't want to invade his privacy in such a way. If there were things in his background of concern, she wanted to find them out organically.

"There's already so much about me dating anyone that's inevitably going to be complicated," she told him, knowing that he, like her, associated the adjective with their own relationship. "Let me just have this one thing?"

To that, Tim had no response. She had won the argument.

According to Angela, there were three bars Tim frequented. The food truck circle outside the precinct, which hardly counted as a bar. Some place called Stoli's over on La Brea Avenue. Lastly was Scotty's, a cop bar for force veterans only.

Lucy knew Tim wasn't at the circle (she'd checked). A call to Stoli's showed he wasn't there either. That left Scotty's.

She brought up the bar on her phone and dialed. A gruff voice answered, grunting at her once as she asked to speak with Officer Tim Bradford.

Sure, she could've just called his cell; but this was so much more dramatic, and way, way funnier.

Tim picked up the receiver a minute later. "Yeah, Bradford."

She grinned to herself. "Never tell a crook where you hide your money."

A second passed where Tim tried to place the voice. "Lucy?"

"After you got your ass kicked, I grabbed your money clip." She withdrew said clip from her pocket, turning it over in her hands. "Gee, Tim. How ever will you pay for your bill?"

"… You are insomuch trouble."

Yeah, probably, but it was worth it. "You know, I could bring it to you." She flipped the clip over a half-turn. This side had his photo ID. She skimmed over his stats, filing away his birthday (July 17th) for future reference. "But it'll cost you a drink."

Tim hesitated, then whispered, "I don't know if that's a good idea, Lucy."

She deflated instantly, all her good vibes evaporating with a single sentence, and failed to speak for a long enough stretch that Tim asked, "You still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here." She put the clip away. "Well, in that case, maybe you could wash the dishes?" A memory from this morning crossed her mind, and she added a little sarcastically, "But you might want to glove up." Then she ended the call.

It was tempting to stew over this rejection, to mull it over without end. Why had he said no? Weren't they in a better place? They'd been alone before without issue, so why did he say no tonight?

But she put a stop to the questions before any of them could take root. It wasn't her first choice for the evening, but it wasn't like she had no other options.

She dialed Cam and felt a little better when she heard his voice come through the speaker. "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Lucy."

"Lucy." She could hear his smile all over her name, evident even on a phone call. "What can I do for you?"

Already this conversation was better than her call with Tim. "Well, Cam, my night is suddenly free. Are you busy?" He wasn't, and he was thrilled she called.

As they talked, a part of her recalled what Talia had once told her; her speech about deserving to choose and be chosen was never far from Lucy's mind. It was too early yet to know whether that applied here, but if this -having someone excited to hear from her, hearing his joy just in her name- was what being chosen was like…

Well, Lucy didn't hate it.

Chapter 10: Isabel

Notes:

"Shield your eyes from the truth at hand
Tell me why it'll be good again
All those demons are closing in
And I don't want you to burn"
- "Bright Lights and Cityscapes", Sara Bareilles

Chapter Text

Lucy didn't hate being wanted. In fact, it came on so quickly and with so much force that she was a little unprepared for it. If she'd taken a step back, she would have been better prepared to assess the harm refraining from dating while waiting for her timer to hit zero had done, not to mention the hits she sustained to her confidence and sense of self after meeting her soulmate only to find him married and uninterested.

As a result, once Lucy got a taste she wanted it all and was willing to move fast to get it. Cam didn't accompany her to Thanksgiving with her family (still too early to subject him to her parents and all their opinions about her life and career), but she did meet him after for dessert at his place. Fitness instructor or not, he made incredible pecan pie with no corners cut under the pretense of being healthier. She had a long shift the following day, so they made plans for him to come over with dinner once she got home around nine o'clock on the night of Black Friday. He spent the night and made the coffee the next morning. They ordered in for breakfast.

Cam had no timer of his own. She learned that the second time they went out, although the absence of a timer was not for a lack of trying on his part. He'd been saving up for a timer since he was a teenager and got it installed only for his body to reject it. Unbeknownst to him, he was allergic to the metal used as a conductor of the body's naturally-occurring electrical currents in order to power the countdown. The reaction caused an injury to his left forearm so severe he'd needed physical therapy as a young adult to regain strength and mobility in his wrist. It was a terribly unlucky turn of events; only a handful out of one-hundred thousand ever experienced adverse reactions, he claimed, and even less to the extent he had. "But," he'd told Lucy as he finished the story, "that's when I learned more about the body and its mechanisms. Ultimately, that's what inspired me to get into fitness. It wasn't so much about looking my best, it was about functioning my best. It just made sense to help others do the same."

She found it endearing how he took a shitty situation and not only found the good in it, but fashioned a lifelong calling for himself out of it.

Once she knew his experience with timers, it was only fair for Lucy to share the truth around hers. She didn't give him every detail, sticking just to the bullet points. She'd zeroed out a month ago. Her soulmate was a man named Tim. He was married, she had no chance, and that was it.

Of all the reactions she expected him to have, she hadn't guessed Cam would lead with a pitying look, press a gentle kiss to her lips, and then whisper, "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked after he'd said it.

"I mean just that. I'm sorry. I know how hard it can be when something you've planned for doesn't pan out." He asked no more, and she never felt pressured to offer other clarifying details. For all he knew she was out of contact with her soulmate, and Lucy realized a few days later that she preferred he think that. It made things easier for her to let him assume she had no frequent contact with Tim than confess she saw him every day, and that they worked closely together.

Which made it that much more difficult when, a week after Thanksgiving, Tim wondered when she was going let him meet "the guy".

In her shock, Lucy almost dropped the war bag she'd been trying to place in the trunk of the shop. She stammered out, "The what?"

"You know, that guy you're seeing. The one with the dumb name. Ham?"

"You mean Cam."

"Whatever." He helped her get the gear in the trunk and shut it with a slam. "I should meet him. If you're not going to let me run his name, at least let me meet the guy and judge him for myself."

She could not think of a worse idea. "Is there any way we can have this conversation later?" she asked, hoping that if she delayed him enough, he'd forget altogether. Also, that was twice now he'd brought up her personal life during work hours. Other than calling each other Boot or Bradford during shifts, their attempt at having boundaries was basically a joke.

His eyes narrowed. "You don't have the skillset to make judgments on people yet, Boot. How do you think it'll look if you accidentally date a small-time drug dealer during your rookie year?"

"He's not a drug dealer," she retorted.

"Says you, but you can't know for sure, can you?"

Before Lucy could respond again, an officer she didn't know walked in and addressed Tim.

"Officer Bradford," the man said, "Sergeant Grey needs to see you in his office."

Tim nodded at the other man, then looked at Lucy. "Wait in the shop. I'll be right back."

At first she did as he asked, and waited in the passenger's seat for his return. Five minutes went by, then ten. At the twenty minute mark, Lucy chose to exit the vehicle and go look for her training officer, wondering what could have happened that held him up for so long. He'd never lingered at the station this late before and tended to get moody (or rather, evenmoremoody) whenever they were delayed for any reason.

She scanned the bullpen but didn't see him. Not there. A glance at Grey's office -where the officer had directed him to go- was a dead end, too. She finally found him in the briefing room. He sat at one of the tables at the front, his hands interlaced, head forward. From this angle she couldn't see his face, but noticed the tension in his shoulders and back.

Whatever had happened, it was bad.

She tried not to startle him as she entered the room. "Bradford."

He didn't respond.

She took a few steps closer until she could see his face in profile. His brow and mouth both furrowed with a deep frown, and his gaze was focused straight ahead. "Tim?"

He blinked once before looking up at Lucy.

"What happened?" she asked, concern making her voice a whisper.

She saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed hard. "It's Isabel," he replied.

Lucy hesitated to speak again, wondering how she should proceed with only "It's Isabel" to go on. Was she sick? Hurt? In trouble? She wanted to handle it delicately and was unsure how to continue, but the choice was soon rendered irrelevant. From where she stood, she saw movement in the bullpen. Two detectives were walking a suspect through the building. The suspect, a frail blond with wide blue eyes, looked their way. Her stare locked onto Tim immediately.

It was Isabel who walked between the two men. She was in handcuffs.

Sergeant Grey stopped the detectives on their way towards booking. Though they could not hear, both Lucy and Tim watched as he spoke with the men briefly before letting them continue on their way. Then he looked to Tim and gestured his direction.

"Stay here," Tim ordered as he stood and walked to Sergeant Grey's office, leaving Lucy to watch him go and… what? Twiddle her thumbs while she waited for him yet again? Not a chance.

Instead, she went to the booking area. The detectives, two guys named Wolfe and Vestri, glanced back as Lucy entered the room and offered her assistance.

"Book this one for us, Boot," Vestri ordered her. "We've gotta see the sergeant." They left her to do their grunt work without so much as asking for her name. Lucy scoffed.Detectives…

Isabel looked worse since the last time she'd seen her, which was saying something, because a month ago she was coming down from an OD. Somehow in the course of a few weeks she'd managed to lose another five pounds. Her lips were a pale, almost lilac hue, and her hair was starting to thin. For her part, Isabel sensed Lucy's thinly-veiled scrutiny and quickly pulled her sleeves down in an attempt to hide the track marks on her arms.

Lucy knew Isabel needed help and fast, but unfortunately there was only so much she could do. No one could force her to get help. No one could make her stop using. The only thing Lucy could do in that moment was handle her gently, and treat her more humanely than an officer with less scope on the situation might.

"What are the charges?" Lucy asked.

Isabel avoided her eyes as she whispered, "Possession, with intent to sell."

Shit."And are you? Selling, I mean?"

"No," she replied quickly, sounding a little offended that she'd even asked. "No, never. But my boyfriend does."

Great. Lucy sighed. "Isabel, with a charge like that, the detectives are expecting me to do a full body search." The other woman stiffened before Lucy continued. "I don't want to do that. Can you promise me you have no drugs on you?"

There was a pause before Isabel bit out, "Left pocket. Dime bag. It's all I have on me, I swear."

Lucy was inclined to believe her. Despite being an addict and therefore harder to trust, she was counting on the fact that Isabel -a former cop herself- didn't want to go through the humiliation of a cavity search and was being honest. She put on gloves and took the baggie out of Isabel's pocket, then logged it as evidence before taking her mugshot and finger prints.

As she walked her to the holding cell, Lucy turned to Isabel. "Is there anything you want me to tell Tim?" she asked.

Isabel shook her head at once. "No."

Lucy turned to go.

"Chen, wait."

She paused, watching as Isabel appeared to muster her courage.

"It's you, isn't it?" she asked, fidgeting as the question left her mouth. "You're her? The one who made his timer go off?"

Lucy was dumbfounded. She had no idea how Isabel had figured that out, but with a single question she had proved herself more astute and present than maybe she or Tim had given her credit for. She was briefly tempted to continue to lie in deference to her TO. This was his wife, after all, and Lucy wasn't sure it was her place to tell; never mind that Isabel had asked point blank. After brief consideration, Lucy decided it was best to come clean. "Yes," she said simply.

Isabel looked crestfallen. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Because it didn't matter? Because it made no difference? Both thoughts were true, but "Because it's still you he wants," was the answer Lucy went with. As far as she could tell, it was the truest reason of them all.

She had just shut the door to the holding cell when Tim walked into the booking area. His expression looked stormy, his posture retaining all the tension of before as he leveled Lucy with a single glare.

"What the hell are you doing, Boot?" he asked. Before she could answer, he continued. She got the sense he was ramping up to a tirade. "When I say stay put, you stay put."

"I booked Isabel in," she said, ignoring the way his angry stare intensified as she explained. "Vestri and Wolfe think she's just another druggie, okay? At least with me booking her, she got to keep a shred of dignity."

The muscle in Tim's jaw twitched as he weighed her explanation. He nodded, but his anger dissipated only slightly.

"She says it's not hers," Lucy revealed in a hushed tone. "She says she's not selling. Do you believe her?"

"Do you?"

Lucy didn't answer. Tim avoided the question, but judging by his expression, he wasn't so sure either. "Get the clerk," he ordered. "Have him open the cell."

Lucy rushed to do as she was told. She intercepted the booking clerk as he came back from a coffee break and asked him to open cell three for Officer Bradford. While Tim spoke with Isabel, Lucy kept watch for the detectives. She expected them to return to question Isabel any minute. If they caught Tim with their suspect, it could create trouble.

She kept her stance angled; her left shoulder faced the corridor, her right pointed towards the cell. It made it easier for her to glance between the two that way. Although a thick glass wall separated them, Lucy could still see and hear Isabel's muted pleading.

"Baby, please," she said. "I need you. Please. I promise it'll be different if you do."

She expected Tim to resist and watched attentively, waiting for him to pull away from Isabel's clinging hands, to deny whatever Isabel had asked him to do with vehement refusal, but he didn't. He didn't say yes, but he didn't say no, and his continued silence in the face of her pleas was deafening. It was enough to make fear threaten to wrap around Lucy's heart like a vice. When Tim left the cell a short time later, his gaze was vacant, and that fear solidified like ice in her blood. Whatever had happened already, it wasn't the end of it. She knew by Tim's look the worst could be yet to come.

But they still had a shift to get through, first.

On any other day, Lucy would've encouraged him to take the easy calls, knowing he would probably resist, but still feeling better that she'd tried. Since Bishop and Nolan had that VIP ride-along their choices were much more limited. There was nothing for her to do but hope silently for a light day for his sake.

A little after lunch, Lucy broke the long silence that had filled the shop since they left the station, desiring the rhythm of conversation to break up the monotony of waiting for calls while they patrolled their beat. "You're not really worried my boyfriend is a serial killer or something, are you?"

"Is that what he is?"

"A serial killer?"

"No," he replied. "Your boyfriend."

To be honest, they hadn't specifically said as much, but she answered, "We've been seeing each other for two weeks, we talk every day, and I know he's not going out with anyone else."

Tim scoffed. "That doesn't make him your boyfriend."

Well, of coursehe'dthink that. This was coming from the same guy who insisted for weeks that timers were silly and soulmates were fake. Him implying exclusivity did not make a couple was about as surprising as saying water was wet. "Would it kill you to be happy for me?" she muttered under her breath.

"What was that, Boot?"

She looked over at Tim. "Nothing, sir. Forget I brought it up."

The silence persisted again, until Tim broke it the second time. "Look. I'm not going to tell you what to do. Just promise me you'll be careful who you trust." From the way he said it -sounding defeated, spent, and preceding it with a sigh that sounded more like a tired breath than anything else- it was evident he warned her out of his own experience.

Lucy considered herself a capable, intelligent woman, but she didn't think it would've taken a genius to figure out what Isabel was asking Tim to do in the holding cell that morning. She'd been caught with four grams, individually wrapped. "Intent to sell", it was called. She'd admitted her boyfriend was a dealer.

If being caught with that kind of weight was exhibit A, and her boyfriend dealing was B, C could only be one thing.

So Lucy canceled her plans with Cam, apologized profusely, but offered no explanation outside of vaguely attributing it to work. "Helping my TO with something" were her exact words. He understood, but she had expected nothing less from him; whenwasn'the understanding? Sometimes her job would ask more of her, he'd said, and he wanted to support her however she needed. At any other time, she might have swooned over his thoughtfulness, but she was too keyed up to focus on much else. She ended the call with a promise to see him the next day before hanging up.

It was near eleven p.m. when she pulled up to Isabel's apartment building. She parallel parked on the street and turned off her car, afraid leaving it on idle would attract someone's attention by mistake. In her rearview mirror, she saw Tim's truck and her heart sank. The driver's seat was empty.

She was too late.

Her mind raced as she rethought her plan. She'd hoped to get here before he even set foot in the building. Okay. So she didn't manage to stop him before he went in. She could still talk to him when he came out. She still had one chance.

It wasn't long before she spotted a figure in her rearview mirror, clad in black and walking quickly and with purpose. Lucy stepped out of her car just as Tim reached the driver's side door of his own.

A moment passed where he watched her get out of the car. There was a split-second where he appeared confused, but it was quickly overshadowed by fury. He slammed his door shut before marching towards her with one arm behind his back. His efforts at concealment confirmed her worst fear.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed.

She refused to be bowed by his anger. "I should ask you the same question."

He took a step back. "You need to leave."

"No." She wanted to appear resolute, but Lucy's lip quivered over that single syllable.

"You're way out of your depth on this."

Yes, she was, but so was he. Blinded by his love for and loyalty to Isabel, Tim was sinking and couldn't even see it. Lucy had the sole advantage of no such loyalty to his wife, no such love; she had no worries for anyone involved except for Tim himself, her concern beginning and ending with him alone. "Look. I didn't come here to lecture you. I came here to remind you that this isn't you. You project the rogue cop thing, but you always make the right call."

"If you came all this way to analyze me-"

"- Tim, please. Stop," she interrupted him, fighting feeling exasperated on top of everything else. "If you would stop trying to belittle me for one second, you'd see I want to help you." He didn't look convinced, so she persisted before he could interrupt again. "Do you really think that fixing this for Isabel is going to change her? It won't. All it will do is change you." His teeth clenched at her conclusion, but still he said nothing.

"Maybe that doesn't matter to you," Lucy continued, "but it matters to me. Have you thought about that Tim?" She held his gaze; hard to do, that, when he was so determined to avoid her eyes, but she managed nonetheless. "Not just what this is going to do to you, but what it'll do to me to have to choose between protecting you and turning you in?"

His response was quick and needlessly harsh. "I wouldneverask you to protect me."

"I know." She understood Tim well enough by now to know that it wasn't some perceived inability on her part that made him say that; rather, it was pride. Pride masquerading as self-reliance. When was the last time he'd asked anyone for help? How often had he felt like he had only himself to depend on? It predated her presence in his life, for sure, and possibly extended back a long way into his past, an entrenched belief born out of necessity and survival. It made her heart ache to wonder how long he'd gone believing he must be strong enough to bear every weight alone. "But you should know I would never make you ask."

The last words were spoken in a hushed tone, less because she was trying to be quiet than she was affected by her own honesty. It was a confession on her part and the words somehow felt heavy as they left her lips. Heavy, loaded, and true, two sentences that managed to speak volumes of how much she cared about him in spite of everything; what she would risk to keep him safe, what she would be willing to lose for his sake.

You're going to be important to me.So she had told him at the very beginning, speaking of a time in the future. The day (or rather, the night) had come sooner than she thought it would. Tim was important to her. She cared too much to let him make this mistake, and she was banking on the belief that he felt the same. Just like she would protect him without asking, she was trusting in the as-yet unproven fact he'd never put her in that position.

At last, her words seemed to land with him. When he looked at her next, it was with a mix of awe and horror. She could not comprehend either reaction, and now was not the moment nor the place to ask him to explain. For the first time since she'd approached him he seemed uneasy, less determined than before. It appeared to her to be a glimmer of hope that he would listen.

In the course of their argument he'd stopped hiding his hand behind his back. Lucy saw now he wore a blue nitrile glove and held a black garbage bag, the neck of which he clenched tightly in his fist. Who knew what was in it for certain, but she could make an educated guess. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "You need to go."

Lucy left without another word. She had spoken her piece; she had done all she could.

Whatever happened next, it was up to Tim.

It was near midnight by the time Lucy returned home. Isabel's apartment was a twenty minute drive from hers, but she dawdled on the dimly lit Los Angeles streets, extending her drive by more than thirty minutes in an attempt to collect herself. Her efforts were in vain, and she entered her home with her nerves no more settled than they were when she left Tim almost an hour ago. She worried what he might have done when she left. Did he put the contents of the bag back? Return them to their place, just as he'd found them? She knew he was smart enough not to leave a trace, but what if her begging hadn't been enough?

And ohshit, what if it had? What, she wondered as she crawled into bed, would it mean then? What if her going to plead with him and using her own feelings as a bargaining chip succeeded?

She didn't sleep except in snippets. It felt like forever before the sun began to peek through her blinds. She wasn't expected at the precinct for another two hours, but got up anyway, hurried through her morning routine, and left. Lucy didn't know where she was driving until she was already there, turning onto a tree-lined road that wound upwards towards homes she could only dream of affording.

Nolan lived in the guest house of a friend's mansion. She and Jackson had been there dozens of times before. She hadn't realized how much she associated the home with a safe place until she pulled into the drive and parked.

It was too early still. She knew Nolan was probably sleeping. After sitting in the drive for ten minutes, staring at the door, she prepared to back out.

Then he stepped out onto the porch and waved her up.

Nolan had just recently woken up. That much was evident from the messy hair, the sleep lines still on his face. As she walked up the steps, Lucy noticed he held two cups of coffee; one for him, one for her.

"To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" he teased as he pressed one mug into her hand.

"Long night. Couldn't sleep."

It wasn't a complete explanation, but Nolan never needed much to go on before showing himself hospitable. He gladly motioned for her to join him inside. She followed him into the house, through the kitchen to the little dinette beside the large picture window. The view overlooked the pool and the rest of the expertly landscaped property. On a day off, she would've loved to get lost in all the green, but looking from a distance would have to do for now.

"How did you know I was in the drive?" she asked once they were seated.

"You tripped the security sensors when you pulled in," he said. "With a driveway that long, people don't usually end up by the house unless they mean to. I got an alert on my phone when you drove up."

"Oh." Now she felt bad. The alert had probably woken him up.

"It's fine, Lucy. I promise," he was quick to assure her. "My old bones could use an early start now and then." He chuckled to himself, then looked at her with kindness in his eyes. "Do you want to talk about whatever brought you here this early?"

What was there to say? Until she knew for sure that Tim had put the drugs back, anything she told anyone would endanger their deniability. She had resigned herself to being in this hole with Tim alone if necessary, but couldn't do that to any of her friends; least of all Nolan, who had been nothing but the textbook definition of a support system to her since her timer went off. "I just needed to be with a friend, I think," was her answer, and while it was not the whole truth, it was still undeniably true.

He knew her well and cast an uncertain look her way, but did not ask more of her. "Well, you always have that here," he said and lifted his cup to his lips. Then while grinning he added, "But maybe call first next time?"

She laughed and promised she would.

A morning with Nolan managed to calm her when nothing else had, but Lucy knew better than to tempt fate. She wisely avoided Tim until the last possible second. It was only after she'd finished loading up their gear that they acknowledged each other, and then just barely. They did not greet one another, but there were plenty of wary looks to spare between them until they both took their seats inside the shop.

Safe within the confines of the vehicle, Lucy spoke first. "Sir, last night-" she began.

Tim shushed her immediately. "Didn't happen." He cast a sideways glance at her, a wordless signal as he cocked one eyebrow. "Is that clear?"

She held back a sigh of relief. He hadn't gone through with it. He'd put the drugs back. Lucy understood and nodded.

Before another word could be spoken, Sergeant Grey approached their still-parked shop and tapped on the window. It startled them both.

"I got some bad news," Sergeant Grey began after Tim had rolled the window down. "Detectives executed a search warrant on your wife's apartment this morning. Found a kilo in the heating unit."

She was quick to look away from Sergeant Grey, afraid her expression would be interpreted as guilt. Her fear was unfounded as neither Tim nor their superior seemed to pay her any mind. Tim looked away, mute as the sergeant informed him of the upped charges Isabel now faced. His eyes appeared to glaze over and he kept his focus trained on the steering wheel as Sergeant Grey uttered a heartfelt apology, paused for only a moment, then let them be.

When some time had passed, Lucy tried to speak again.

"It was the right thing to do," she whispered.

"No, it wasn't."

"Tim-"

"It was the right thing for you, Lucy," he snapped. "Not for Isabel."

She was taken aback and became defensive if an instant. "I didn't ask you to do it for me."

His retort came out as a rasp, like tears were pulling his voice taut in his throat. "How else was I supposed to take you saying you'd protect me, huh? You and I both know there was only one way that would happen." He raised a hand as if he were going to strike the steering wheel, but thought better of it, bringing it down onto the curve with a muted clap.

"I'm sorry," Lucy whispered. She wasn't sorry for encouraging him to put the brick back; she knew that was the right move without a doubt. Seeing how much pain it caused him to want to help Isabel only to be held back and knowing it was her own words and actions that stopped him, she could only be apologetic. Shewassorry, if not for the actual deed itself, then for how he felt now because of it.

He took another minute to compose himself. When Tim looked up again, he was clear-eyed and stoic. "Don't make me choose between you and her again."

Just yesterday she had judged Isabel for the position she'd put him in, thinking that she'd preyed on his love and plied him with false promises. Lucy saw now that she was no better in that regard; there was no denying that she herself had done the same to him. No, she hadn't sworn that things would change, and their end goals couldn't have been more different… but she was forced to recognize how betting on his feelings for her (whatever they were) and using them to get her way had made him feel ill-used. No matter her motive or that it was the right call morally and legally, she had manipulated Tim into doing what she asked.

Both women had begged. Tim had chosen, and for better or worse, all three would live with the consequences.What's done is done.Lucy thought, but it was poor consolation. She had saved Tim from making a terrible mistake, but at a great personal cost to him. It was not a victory.

Chapter 11: Bad Days Ahead

Notes:

"By the time the fever broke
I'd had enough of trouble
That's when trouble spoke
Sometimes, it's a losing battle"
- "Losing Battles", Josh Ritter

Chapter Text

It was like starting from square one. Not with her training. That proceeded as expected. Some days she won, some days she lost (although she preferred to view it as "learning" more than losing). No, she was back at the beginning with Tim himself. After the stash was found at Isabel's apartment, her relationship with him deteriorated, becoming as bad or worse than it was when she started her rookie year. Worse, not because he was meaner than he'd once been, but because she'd seen what it could be when they got along. Worse, because now she knew what she stood to lose.

He wasn't overtly cruel, for which Lucy was thankful, but neither was he kind. Any ground she'd gained with him had been ceded; any warmth he'd shown towards her vanished overnight. He avoided speaking to her as much as possible, and avoided looking at her even more. He treated her with apathy during shifts. If ever she brought up the night outside Isabel's apartment (and she was only brave enough to try twice), he responded with something sharp and biting, but that was the extent of anger. She'd asked Angela and Talia to check on him after the charges against Isabel were increased. As far as she could tell, they had, but neither would offer her insight into his mindset. Whether that was out of a lack of knowledge or from a sense of loyalty to him, she couldn't be sure.

What she knew for certain was he had committed to freezing her out completely. It didn't surprise her, and she couldn't say she blamed him. She reserved the blame for herself.

In the week that followed, Lucy took comfort where she could. Typically that comfort came in the form of hanging out with her friends. Jackson and Nolan could sense something had shifted, but neither asked what. By now, they were as accustomed to the roller coaster named Tim Bradford as she was. Her time spent with them alternated with evenings spent with her boyfriend.Officialboyfriend. She and Cam had had that particular conversation just a day or two after Tim had made his little comment about what counted and what didn't, although Lucy refused to give him undue credit even in the privacy of her own mind. Cam did the cheesy, proud boyfriend thing, and posted a picture of Lucy to his Instagram account. She left kissy face emojis under the picture, but posted nothing of her own.

"Trust me," she said as she explained her reasons to him, "you don't want my parents getting involved this early." She could only handle so much relational drama at once. Maybe when (or if) things improved with Tim, she'd reconsider.

She kept Cam a secret from her blood family, but extended no such measures to her friends. He already knew Jackson but had yet to meet Nolan, and she planned to remedy that the second week of December during a small, surprise holiday party at Nolan's place.

It was Nolan's first Christmas in LA. While he'd never said so in plain English, both Lucy and Jackson got the sense that he was feeling displaced. Winters in Los Angeles were nothing like what he was accustomed to in Pennsylvania, so the pair made secret plans to bring a little of home to him. They texted his son Henry for ideas, and he was happy to point them in the right direction, giving them info they would've otherwise never guessed. A faux tree was purchased; according to Henry, his dad would forget to water a real one, not to mention the mess sap and fallen pine needles would create might cause his friend/landlord Ben to have a coronary. Secondhand strings of multi-colored Christmas lights were procured from Jackson's parents, and an assortment of red, green, and gold ornaments from a nearby craft shop. He also found and purchased candles made in Pennsylvania. Supposedly the scent was inspired by the state, but to Lucy it just smelled like pine and apples. Not an unpleasant smell by any stretch, but probably not accurate.

Since Jackson headed up the decorations, Lucy tasked herself with handling the food. It wasn't something she wasted time grousing about, knowing she was the more capable chef out of the two of them (if only barely). She had already ordered two giant bags of Middleswarth BBQ chips and a box of Tastykakes brand cupcakes, snacks native to Nolan's home state.

"And they better be good," she joked to Jackson over the phone while they continued to plan, "because after shipping, they'll cost more than the rest of the food."

She looked up meals specific to the state and got a lot of hits for dishes ranging from delicious to disgusting. Lebanon bologna sounded tasty, almost like a heavily seasoned prosciutto. Something called "scrapple", a meat comprised of pork scraps and corn meal, would not be served and in her opinion could be taken as proof that humanity deserved bad things. She'd tried her hand at making apple butter, but a test batch ended up too runny and almost entirely flavorless, closer to baby food than something to spread on warm slices of bread. When none of her other attempts panned out, she bought the ingredients for Philly cheesesteaks the night before. Sure, it was a little cliche, but it was also hard to screw up.

They planned to spring it all -the decorations, the food, the merriment- on a Friday night after work. Jackson and Lucy arrived at eight. Cam would join them at eight-thirty.

"Is that all the food?" Jackson asked after he rang the doorbell to the guest house. They stood beside each other on the stoop, and he eyed her three grocery bags with envy. He carried the tree under one arm, and a large box of containing the lights and ornaments under the other, significantly more heavy-laden with goodies than she was.

"This is plenty for four people," she replied. He made a sound like he didn't agree, but couldn't address it before Nolan opened the door.

"Merry Christmas!" they shouted in unison.

He reacted exactly like they were hoping; surprised, of course, but also pleased and a little touched.

"This is really too much you guys," he gushed as they walked inside with their gifts. Jackson put the tree box and ornaments in the living room while Lucy started unpacking the food in the kitchen. "Oh my gosh, are those Tastykakes?" He exclaimed, taking the offered box from Lucy. "I used to buy these for Henry's lunches. Where did you find these?"

"Oh you know, you can find anything on the internet," she replied as he hugged her.

While Nolan and Jackson got to work sorting through the decorations, Lucy started on the sandwiches. Most of the ingredients for the cheesesteaks were already prepared, but she needed a few minutes to slice and grill the onions. After that, it was just a matter of assembling the pieces on the subs and letting them sit them under the broiler for a few minutes to melt the cheese.

As she put together the second of four subs, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" she called, peeking out of the kitchen to glance at her friends. The tree was upright in the corner, although it leaned a little to the left. Nolan was busy attempting to untangle a string of lightbulbs while Jackson threaded hooks onto ornaments.

"Um, real quick…" she began, trying to sound nonchalant as she walked towards the guys. "Cam is here, and he doesn't know my soulmate is my TO, so uh… yeah, keep that under your hats. Okay? Okay!" She didn't give them time to argue, but knew by the way their jaws dropped in synch that she would have to explain herself later.

And explain she would, but not until after the tree had been decorated, the sandwiches had been eaten, and the Christmas music had stopped. The cheesesteaks were a hit, and although Lucy didn't think either the chips or cupcakes were anything special, the cost was worth it to see Nolan's grin as he bit into one of the chocolate cakes. She ate two (because even "just okay" cake was still cake) while Jackson and Cam both declined. Once they'd finished eating, Nolan turned on the tree lights for the first time. Cam excused himself shortly afterwards, citing the hike he was leading early the next morning as his reason for leaving. Lucy saw him out.

"Well? What did you think of Nolan?" she asked as she walked him to his car.

"He's nice!Definitelynot from around here." That observation made them both laugh. "You said he's a rookie?"

She nodded. "I know what you're thinking. He's…" as often as possible, she refrained from calling himold, "… not as young as most rookies are."

Cam chuckled. "I see what you did there. Very diplomatic." He put his arm around her waist and drew her close. "Do you think I impressed your friends?"

"Jackson was your friend first, you know. But yes, I think you impressed Nolan." She didn't mention that he was probably the easiest to impress out of her friends and family, figuring even the easy wins should count for something.

"Good." He kissed her once on the lips, then on her forehead. "I'll call you tomorrow."

When she returned to the house, Nolan and Jackson were waiting in the entryway like a pair of disappointed parents, down to the crossed arms and deep frowns.

She looked between the both of them, swallowed hard once, and said tentatively, "I know what you're going to say, but just let me explain." She figured one or both of them to interrupt her and even paused to let them try, but neither did. "Oh. Okay. I didn't expect you guys to actually let me explain."

"It's not so much 'letting' you as 'making you', Luce," Nolan noted.

"And it better be good, because I am not finding a new gym if this all goes south," Jackson said.

She bristled, but couldn't pretend she hadn't earned their judgment to some degree. "Cam knows my timer hit zero, but he thinks it's just some married guy named Tim. He doesn't know Tim is my training officer. It's as simple as that."

Her friends didn't think so.

"Ok, so, you lied," Jackson stated.

"No, I didn't lie. I just sort of," she gestured vaguely towards herself, "held that part back."

Jackson wasn't deterred. "You know, in court they call that a lie of omission."

"I used to tell Henry that a half truth is a whole lie," Nolan added.

"Yeah, well. I'm not in court, and I'm not Henry." She tried not to shrink back even as she felt a twinge of shame at their comments. "I didn't plan on 'omitting' anything. I told him my soulmate's name is Tim, and he's married, and then I didn't say anything else. He was the one that assumed I don't see him."

"Assumed?"

She tried to remember specifics. "… I think I said 'that was it'." Nothing else in the conversation was pertinent enough to the topic to be worth sharing, but she added, "It's possible he took it differently than I maybe expected him to."

Nolan said nothing, but Jackson audibly groaned.

Her next words came out in a stammer. "Y-you can't tell him. Okay? This can't be the thing that screws it all up." She was going to come clean, sooner or later. Not when it was still so new, not when things were going so well between them. She desperately needed just one aspect of her personal life to continue smoothly; so far, that was only Cam. What could be the harm in delaying just a little while longer? She could think of none, so long as her friends kept their mouths shut.

It visibly bothered them to agree, but both men did eventually after she swore she would come clean with him herself. She would, she promised. Of course she would. Just not right now.

While she could put off telling Cam the entire truth about Tim, Lucy didn't think she could stand another day where her issues with Tim remained unresolved. She walked into the station determined to face the problem, deciding she would not let up until it was fixed. She'd psyched herself up for a conversation that she envisioned would be equal parts heartfelt and hostile, but her determination wavered when, after the morning briefing, Isabel was dropped off. Officers from the county jail delivered her directly into Sergeant Grey's care.

Lucy only saw her for a second from a distance before Tim marched over to the sergeant. She couldn't hear what he said, but could tell from his body language (balled fists, stiffened back) that he was upset. Few people were reckless enough to broadcast their anger so visibly to a superior officer. It spoke volumes of Tim's lack of regard for his own well-being where Isabel was concerned, and also of Sergeant Grey's capacity for patience that he didn't reprimand him outright.

She didn't stick around to see how the conversation ended, just kept her head down and went to get the gear loaded. She waited until they were on the streets to ask why Isabel had been brought back.

"That's above your pay-grade, Boot," Tim replied, offering no further explanation.

She paused only a moment before asking another question. "Are you going to be mad at me forever?"

His reply ignored her question. "They weren't Isabel's drugs."

"They were in her heater."

"They weren't her drugs," he repeated. "She's in this situation because she let herself get taken advantage of."

"And you believe her." That wasn't a question, but an observation. He didn't answer, which was fine. Lucy didn't need confirmation. "I know it hurt you to let it happen. I'm so sorry for that, and for making you feel like I was manipulating you. I promise it will never happen again."

Tim's reply was short. "Sure, Boot."

"You don't believe me?"

"I think you believe you," he retorted, "but I don't think that's a promise you're prepared to keep."

She was tempted to object. Choice comments laced with sarcasm seemed to burn the tip of her tongue, daring her to speak, but she held back. Her plans for a productive conversation had been altered the second Isabel arrived, but then they managed to have the longest talk they'd had in a week. Progress was progress, wasn't it? If she continued to protest, it could (and probably would) end in an argument. She wanted resolution, but she wasn't prepared to fight him to get it.

It soon didn't matter. The laptop to her left beeped, notifying them both of a new alert in their box. Lucy read it aloud.

"Officer-involved shooting," she whispered, a lump forming in her throat as she saw the name. "It's Nolan." She fell into a stunned silence, but her shock was soon pierced by the sound of Tim's city-issued phone. Sergeant Grey was calling.

"Bradford." He listened to their orders, nodding his head as the sergeant spoke. "Understood. We're on our way."

"What's going on?" she asked as he changed lanes suddenly.

"Sergeant needs us back. Character witnesses for Nolan." He pulled a u-turn at the next intersection, putting them on the road back to the station.

"You okay, Boot?" he asked.

She nodded without thinking. "Yeah."

"Are you really?"

"…No." Lucy wasn't naive. She understood this sort of thing happened, but it wasNolan.She knew him well enough to imagine that this was a worst-case scenario for him. "I don't know if he's ever met a conflict he couldn't 'nice' his way out of. I'm worried what this will do to him."

They pulled into the station garage a few minutes later. Tim put the shop in park and turned in his seat to face her.

"It's going to be okay, Lucy," he encouraged. For the first time in days, he didn't sound upset with her; he called her by name. It felt like a sort of cease-fire, a tenuous peace agreement formed more by the circumstances than by forgiveness or goodwill from either party. It was better than nothing, though, and Lucy hoped it lasted.

They entered the precinct together but were promptly separated after checking in. All the officers that worked with Nolan closely were to be kept apart until after their interviews so that no one could coach another officer on their answers. The questions were pretty standard, easy to answer, but Lucy still felt nervous. More than that, she was worried about her friend.

After her interview, she found Jackson in the break room. In his hands he held a cup of cold coffee, which he stared at with a forlorn expression.

"Want me to warm that up for you?" she asked.

Jackson looked up and gave her a thin smile. "Nah. I'm good." Then he asked, "How did it go?"

She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Yours?"

He shrugged too. "Okay, I guess."

She poured herself a cup of coffee, added a little sugar, and took a seat across from him. "Have you seen Nolan?"

He shook his head. "No. They won't let any of us talk to him until after he's been through interrogation. Could compromise the investigation."

"Well, how long will the investigation take?"

"Could take days," Angela said from the doorway. Lucy turned to face her as she walked over to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. "When an officer-involved shooting happens, IA goes over every step with a fine-toothed comb, and that's for a force vet. For a probationary officer, that scrutiny is magnified even more." She helped herself to the empty seat to Jackson's right.

"I can't imagine what Nolan is going through," Jackson whispered. "Can you?"

Angela's eyes flashed, hardening as she remembered. "Second year as a TO. Prisoner transport went sideways. My Boot didn't search the suspect properly and lost her gun. Guy would've killed us both if I hadn't pulled the trigger."

"What happened to the Boot?" Lucy was glad Jackson asked. She was wondering, too.

"Don't know. She wasn't a cop after that."

"How did you get through it?"

She pursed her lips and with one finger tapped a brief rhythm against her paper coffee cup as she thought about her reply. "You don't get through that kind of thing, Chen," Angela answered. "You just make peace with it."

No more was said between the three of them after that. Jackson rose after a few minutes and discarded his coffee before leaving the room. Soon, Lucy went to do the same.

"Chen."

She turned to look at Angela. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Bradford tell you about Isabel?" When she said nothing, Angela took it as no. "She made a deal to become a confidential informant."

This was news to her. Lucy was positive her surprise showed. "What does that mean for Isabel?"

"She'll avoid jail time." Angela paused there to finish off her coffee. "She's got a lot of contacts, but it's dangerous. Could even turn deadly." She looked Lucy over with a knowing gaze. "I'm sure you can understand why a certain tall, blond, and broody training officer might be extra keyed up about it over the next few days, right?"

At that, Lucy nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I can see why that would be true."

Satisfied with her agreement, Angela left Lucy alone in the break room. She took the time by herself to ponder what might happen now. They'd learned about CI's in the academy, but she couldn't recall an example like this. Nothing in her training so far had prepared her for a case quite like Isabel, period. A former cop who fell into addiction choosing to become an informant? To do something so risky showed how desperate Isabel was. As she'd witnessed firsthand before, when Isabel got desperate, so did Tim. The thought filled her with dread.

If progress was being made on Nolan's case, Lucy didn't know for sure. Neither could she tell what sort of moves were being made with Isabel as a CI. Being at the bottom of the pecking order, most information she got concerning either person was picked up in rumblings; in rumors spoken between superiors within her earshot, murmurs between officers working the different cases.

Her best source of information turned out to be Officer Bishop. Talia, now aiding the detectives in charge of Isabel's case, approached Tim in plainclothes the next day. Lucy was seated at a table a few feet away, having lunch with Jackson. After briefly speaking with Talia, Angela excused herself and called to Jackson to let him know they were getting back to their beat. That left Lucy at the table alone, watching and straining to hear what the officers were discussing while feigning focus on her food.

She caught nothing, not even pieces, until the end after Tim had risen to his feet abruptly.

"They want her to wear a wire," Talia said. It was the first bit she'd been able to discern with confidence throughout their conversation. "It's happening tonight."

Before another word was said, Tim left the food truck circle in a hurry. When he did not return after a few minutes, Lucy stood. She disposed of her trash, then walked over to where Tim had left his.

Talia was still seated at the table and looked up when Lucy approached.

"I'm guessing you heard that?" she asked.

"Heard what?" Her play at innocence earned her a smirk.

"Don't play dumb, Boot," she replied, but it didn't sound mean.

"I know this is all way above me," Lucy began with some hesitation, "and I'm probably out of line by even offering, but if there's anything I can do to help-"

Talia stopped her before she could say more. "There's nothing you can do to help with Isabel, Boot." After a second, she amended, adding, "The best thing you can do is be supportive, should Bradford need it. Not that he'd admit to needing it." They both snickered briefly at that. "Have you talked to Nolan lately?"

Lucy shook her head slowly. "I saw him come in and go to the Captain's office. Nothing after that."

Concern covered Talia's face. She didn't pretend to hide it. "Do me a favor and go check on him, okay? Make sure he's taken care of, supported, whatever. You'd know better than me what might help him. Between me and Lopez, we'll watch out for Tim, okay? I promise."

Lucy agreed at once.

It took some searching, but she finally found Nolan in a hallway inside the precinct. He looked like he hadn't slept. Looked like it, Lucy knew, because he probably hadn't. His haggard appearance was emphasized by his wardrobe. An officer-involved shooting meant he was on leave until the investigation was complete, so he was in civilian clothing. The clothes were clean but rumpled, and his hair looked as though he'd raked his fingers through it multiples times in the last few minutes. Altogether, the image he projected was a little disheveled.

"How long have you been standing here?" she asked when she walked up to him.

He blinked. "Um. Not sure. Time's still…" he trailed off.

"What's going on?"

He wanted to say. She could tell by the way he bit down on his lips that he wanted so badly to tell her everything. "I can't. They could call you to testify."

"So?" She forced her voice to sound lighter than she felt. "I'll testify that you're one of the best people I know."

He didn't need much more prompting than that, but what he shared was still vague. "I can't stop thinking about it, Lucy. I was chasing him, and then he turned, and then he was dead." His voice wavered over the worddead. "What if I can't get past this?" he wondered. "How will I ever do the job again?"

It hurt to see him so tormented. She wanted to fix it, but there was almost nothing she could do. Being a talker, she knew he needed to discuss it. Hell, it was possible he wouldn't be able to really begin processing his grief and and guilt until he could talk about it more freely, but he was right that anything he told her could negatively impact the investigation.

It was luck that inspiration struck her with such a quickness, she could've sworn it was divine. She put one hand on his arm, making him look at her. "I have an idea. Give me thirty minutes, okay?" When he nodded, she added, "I'll meet you in the break room."

It took a little longer than she planned, but within the hour Lucy had filed all her paperwork, clocked out, and changed out of her uniform. She hadn't heard from or seen Tim at all in that time period, but trusted Talia when she said she and Angela would keep an eye on him. Between Lopez and Bishop he was in good hands. Not that heneededto be handled. Not that he wasn't capable on his own, but there was a constant hum of worry over him that had played on a looped in the back of her mind since the day Isabel was arrested.

She did her best to push it out of her mind, shutting it away like how she slammed the door to her locker before going to the break room to retrieve Nolan.

Lucy led him to the parking lot. Although his truck worked better, she offered to drive. She just wished her radio weren't broken. The silence in her car was unbearable as she drove them through the city. Eventually, she steered the Datsun down a neighborhood road. Nolan recognized it at once; his posture went rigid beside her as he inhaled deeply.

"What are we doing here?" he asked after she'd rolled to a stop in front of the house. She knew it probably looked different now, removed from the adrenaline of the chase and the shooting. From the street they could see into the large picture window. The family who lived there was visible, all smiles as they set the table for dinner. It was as perfect and picturesque as it would have been if the events of just two days before had not transpired.

"I can't imagine what you're going through." Lucy whispered. "I can't imagine how I'd feel if it were me. But look at them, John. They're alive because ofyou. You put your own life at risk to protect them." She put her hand on his shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "If you're ever in that position again, I know you'll do the same thing."

Lucy's breath caught in her chest as she recognized that, as true as her statement had been for Nolan, it connected with her circumstance seamlessly. Although she'd known encouraging Tim to put the drugs back was the right call, she still wrestled against doubt and against guilt with no sign of absolution from him. Now her actions had indirectly forced Isabel to make a dangerous choice. She had been tempted to shoulder more than her fair share of blame for that, too, but no. She couldn't feel guilty. She wouldn't. She had stopped Tim from making a mistake that would fundamentally alter him as a person. He'd gone to the edge of what made him Him, and she alone had managed to pull him back from the cliff.

Tim had been right to say she couldn't make the kind of promise she tried to yesterday morning. If she was ever in that position again, she'd do the same thing. A hundred times over, she'd do the same thing.

Visiting the house wasn't a fix. She hadn't expected it to be, but for the first time in days, she got the sense Nolan was able to relax. He even cracked a smile or two. Lucy knew he'd carry the weight from the shooting forever, but she didn't think that was wrong or unhealthy. To regard it lightly, whether now or someday in the future, would be inauthentic to Nolan and his capacity for empathy.

They drove around until well after the sun had set. At some point, Nolan suggested dinner, so they grabbed tacos while out and took them back to his house. They ate on the floor in the living room while watching Christmas movies by the light of the tree.

"So," he asked around a mouthful, "are you still mad at Tim?"

She looked down at her plate, hiding from his gaze. Lucy knew better than to lie to Nolan. He was too perceptive for that, so instead she tried to evade. "What makes you think I'm mad at him?"

It didn't work. "Seriously?" he said. "You and Jackson both wear your feelings on your face. You might as well have written it on your forehead."

There wasn't much she could safely tell. She certainly couldn't disclose that Tim had been at the brink of breaking the law for his wife, and she wasn't sure she could share that Isabel was working as a CI. Although Angela had volunteered the information, Lucy got the feeling that wasn't meant to be passed around as common knowledge.

"I'm not mad at him, but you're right that we aren't getting along too well right now. I think he blames me for Isabel," she answered simply.

Nolan nodded, signaling he understood. "I remember hearing she got arrested, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"I don't see how he could blame you for that."

She couldn't clarify, so she shrugged. "He just does."

He studied her, looking at her not with sadness but sympathy. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You're asking me?" Lucy pushed him gently with her shoulder and smiled. "Tacos and a Christmas movie? You're already doing it."

They finished dinner midway throughMiracle on 34th Street.She'd had a beer with her meal and once the first was gone, Nolan offered another. She finished it quickly and sheepishly asked for a third. By ten o'clock, she was on her fourth and felt warm. Good. Not drunk, but buzzed enough that she knew not to drive.

"Stay. Sleep on the couch," Nolan insisted as he gathered up the empty bottles to carry to the kitchen.

"I could just call an Uber…" she started to say before sinking back into the plush cushions with a contented sigh. Oh, but it was tempting to stay since he'd offered. The sofa was more comfortable than her lumpy, creaky old mattress by miles.

Her eyes were already closed when she heard Nolan chuckle from above her. "I'll get you a blanket."

There was a rustling sound as a soft, thick cover was draped over her. Lucy fell asleep pretty quickly after that and for a while snoozed soundly and dreamlessly on the couch. She awoke a few hours later to total darkness in the living room and the buzz of her cell phone. She groped for it in the dark, finally locating it near her feet. The light from the screen was blinding as she fumbled to turn down the brightness before checking the notifications through a sleepy, slightly hungover squint. One missed phone call and one text, both from Angela. The message made Lucy bolt upright, sobering her in a split-second.

Meet me at Cedars.the text read.Isabel's been shot.

Chapter 12: The Longest Day

Notes:

"And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
And sooner or later, it's over
I just don't wanna miss you tonight"
- "Iris", Kina Grannis

Chapter Text

The panic she felt was instant, followed and heightened by a cold chill that ran down her spine as Lucy threw back the blanket and sprang to her feet. No hint of grogginess lingered. Her mind was as clear as it would have been with a full night's sleep, but her heartbeat thudded in her ears, her own voice sounding distant as she ran to Nolan's bedroom calling his name. Adrenaline made her hands tremble as she shook him to wake him up.

"Nolan. Nolan. Wake up," she chanted until he opened his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked as he rubbed at his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"It's Tim's wife," she replied in a rush. "She's been shot. They're taking her to the hospital now."

His reaction was similar to hers, the shock of the news jolting him out of any remaining sleepiness. He sat up and pushed back the covers while he said to Lucy, "Tell me what you need me to do."

She asked to borrow a clean shirt and to use the bathroom connected to his room before she left. He nodded and got to his feet, then rummaged through one drawer. After a second of searching, he handed her a clean plain gray t-shirt and black hoodie with a zipper up the front to wear over it, then he went to the kitchen to make her a cup of coffee to drink on the drive over.

Lucy tried to work quickly, anxious to get to the hospital as soon as possible. She splashed some cold water on her face and availed herself to the bottle of blue Listerine on the counter before yanking her shirt off hurriedly. She had just pulled the clean t-shirt over her head when she heard strange sounds she couldn't quite place coming from the living room. The brief noise was followed by the unmistakable sound of a single gunshot.

She tore out of the bathroom. The bedroom door was partially closed, obscuring a sizable portion of her view into the living room. She spotted Nolan's off-duty weapon on the nightstand near his pillow, grabbed it, then headed toward the sound of the fight. Lucy opened the door just in time to see Nolan kick a man through the glass wall just a few feet away from where she had been sleeping only minutes before.

While Nolan called for help, Lucy kept her gun trained on the trespasser. It was pure precaution. The man was unconscious, but protocol and common sense told them he would need to be handcuffed. Only after the man was properly restrained did she have the chance to ask Nolan if he was okay. He said he was, but he sure as hell didn't look it. Didn't sound it, either. There were scratches on his face and blood trickled slowly out of the openings. Lucy gingerly prodded at his wounds, silently wondering whether or not to call for an ambulance.

"Anything else happen?" she asked as she appraised his injuries.

Nolan sighed. "Yeah," he replied, sounding mournful. "I dropped your coffee."

It wasn't the average break-in. The man that had broken in and attacked Nolan knew him, at least in passing. He was the brother of the robber he'd fatally shot days before. Calling it in had alerted not just the on-duty officers, but a whole host of superiors involved in Nolan's justified-shooting investigation. The only other witness to the attack, Lucy was left with no choice but to stay put until she could answer questions from both Commander West and Captain Andersen. Her plans to join Talia and Angela at the hospital in support of Tim were understandably delayed, but hopefully not derailed.

I'll be there as soon as I can.she texted Angela.

Commander West -Jackson's dad- was the first to question her. Even off-duty he was a little intimidating, but not in a way that scared her. He projected a strength she found reassuring, especially now, reeling as she and Nolan both were from the home invasion.

He was all business at first. "Officer Chen. Tell me what happened exactly as you remember it, including what you're doing here.."

Lucy nodded before speaking. "Yes sir. Nolan and I had dinner earlier tonight and watched a movie. I had a few beers and he offered to let me stay for the night rather than get a cab. I woke up about thirty minutes ago. My phone was ringing. I was asleep on the couch." She'd left her makeshift bed intact, knowing it would act as proof that she and Nolan weren't engaged in any improper behavior. "I went into Officer Nolan's bedroom to let him know I was leaving. He loaned me a clean shirt and offered to make me coffee while I used the bathroom."

"And how long were you in there?"

She thought. "It couldn't have been more than three minutes. Five, max."

"I see. Then what happened?"

"I heard the fighting. Heard a gun go off. I grabbed Officer Nolan's off-duty weapon from his end table and came out of the bedroom and saw the man go through the window."

Commander West took her statement in while keeping his expression passive. "And that's the entire truth?"

She knew he wasn't second-guessing her as much as he was piecing the scene together, but the question still made her a little nervous. Her voice cracked as she replied, "Yes, sir."

"All right." He nodded towards the patio, covered now shattered glass and yellow crime scene tape. "We found the sliding door open. Guessing that's how Howard gained entry. He probably waited until you'd left the living room to come in. Didn't want to deal with you too, I bet. You're very lucky."

She hadn't realized that. It made her shiver. "I didn't know he was out there. If I'd known-"

Commander West was quick to stop her from finishing that thought. "Don't go down that road. 'What ifs' like that will drive you crazy. It played out how it played out, okay?"

Lucy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I just have one more question. Are you okay?"

For a second he was not just the commander. He was Mr. West, her friend's dad. It was a different aspect to the strength he projected. Kind and fatherly, if a little distant. In the moment, she needed that and appreciated it from him.

"I'm a little freaked out," she felt safe admitting, "But yes, I think I'm okay."

His list of questions completed, the commander moved on to analyzing other aspects of the crime scene. Sensing her opening, Andersen approached Lucy next. She did not come with a list of her own questions, and only asked after Lucy's wellness. "Are you all right, Chen?"

She nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Nolan bore the brunt of the attack."

"I didn't ask if you were hurt," the Captain explained, "I asked if you're all right. You saw your friend attacked in his own home. It'd be understandable if you were upset."

At that, Lucy replied, "I am, ma'am, but I will be okay."

"Okay," she echoed, acknowledging the answer with a nod of her own. "Overheard you tell Commander West you were woken up by your phone ringing. Is that right?" She waited until Lucy answered to the affirmative before continuing. "I'm guessing that you know then that Isabel Bradford is in the hospital?"

Lucy paused before she replied. "Will… will someone get in trouble if I say yes, ma'am?"

Andersen gave her a crooked smile. "I'm sure Bradford needs all the support he can get tonight. No one's getting in trouble for calling you."

She exhaled in relief. "Then, yes ma'am. I know Isabel is in the hospital. Is there any word on how she's doing?"

The captain shook her head. "None yet. If you're heading up there, make sure you give Tim my best, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She checked on Nolan one more time before leaving. He'd been cared for by a medic and now sported butterfly sutures over his cuts, but was otherwise okay. Nothing a little Tylenol couldn't fix, he said. The guest house was a crime scene for now, so after everyone left he planned to spend the night in the main house. He'd break the news about the wall to his friend in a few hours. She offered to vouch for him if Ben gave him a hard time, but he didn't foresee it being an issue.

With her presence no longer required, Lucy left. She called Angela en route to the hospital.

"Sorry I'm running late. Something happened at Nolan's house," she said.

"It's okay," Angela replied. "Is everything all right?"

For the moment, she skirted the question. "l'll tell you more when I get there." Then she asked, "How is Isabel? What happened?"

Angela was hesitant to reveal too much over the phone. "I'll tell you more when you get here."

Her hand tightened on the steering wheel, gripping it so hard her knuckles turned white. She had to speak around the lump that formed in her throat. "I'm on my way."

Angela was waiting by the ER entrance when Lucy pulled up. "I'll walk you up," she said.

Lucy was grateful for the company. They could talk about what happened while they walked. "How is she doing?"

She shook her head. "It doesn't look too good right now." Her eyes began to glimmer as she spoke. She blinked rapidly, a clear attempt to fight back tears. "It's good that you came. I think it'll mean a lot to Tim."

While Lucy appreciated the sentiment and knew it came from a genuine place, she didn't agree. "I don't know about that. I'm here because you called. Not because I think he needs me." She had no delusions as far as that went.

"He's your soulmate."

"Yeah, and he hasn't really talked to me in days. For all I know, he'll take one look at me and tell me to leave."

Angela thought differently. "I wouldn't be so sure, Boot."

She didn't contradict her again, instead choosing to continue the walk silently as Angela led the way. They soon arrived at the ICU waiting room where Talia was waiting to update them.

"They've got her settled and stable," she explained. "The bleeding stopped, but they need the swelling to go down before they can operate. If she can make it through the night, she stands a chance."

"What happened?" Lucy asked.

"A dealer named Vance shot her in the head and dropped her in a dumpster." She answered evenly with chilling stoicism. Lucy guessed that both Talia and Angela were trying to put a little distance between themselves and the event until each had the time and space to process their emotions. Hell, that could've been a contributing factor in why they called her. Both women had known Isabel during her former life as a cop. There was a layer to their involvement that Lucy had no context for, purely because of how little she knew about Isabel. She'd only known of her for a short time. They knew her differently. They knew her better.

"How's Tim?" she asked.

"About as good as you can expect," Talia said.

Simultaneously, Angela replied, "Holding it together, but barely. He's with her now. Room 510." Lucy began to walk off, expecting the others to join her, but she was called back. "Wait. What happened at Nolan's house? You said you'd say."

Her ordeal seemed so minor in comparison, but since they asked, Lucy shared. She faked composure about the break-in, hoping to sound less affected than she felt as she told them about Howard's attack on Nolan. "The brother of the man he shot broke in and threatened Nolan. I was sleeping on his couch when you called. He got in a few minutes later. It was pretty intense."

Both women looked dumbstruck at the news. "Jeez," Talia interjected with shock. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. He wasn't after me." She tried not to think about the near-miss she might have had, nor did she want to dwell on the possibility of him watching through the window, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. "Maybe don't mention it to Tim anytime soon, though? He's got enough to worry about."

Lucy once again turned to head towards Isabel's room when she noticed neither woman followed. She turned around. "Are you not coming?"

Talia shook her head. "Wolfe and Vestri are still working the case. Gonna meet up with them."

"And there's only two visitors allowed in ICU room at a time," Angela said. "I can stay in the waiting room if you think you'll want to switch at some point."

"You really think he'll even want me to stay?"

Angela smirked before replying. "You know him. For all his acting like a loner, he hates being alone."

All the lights were off except for one lone fluorescent bulb above Isabel's bed. It cast a silver glow over her sleeping form. She was usually pale, but now she looked almost ghostly. Her wound had been packed and wrapped with white gauze that covered the entirety of her scalp. A large purple bruise formed over the left half of her face; evidence of trauma displaced from the bullet's impact. A cannula assisted with her breathing, and machines beeped to her left, tracking her pulse, temperature, and oxygen levels.

A few feet away to Isabel's right sat Tim on a narrow vinyl bench beneath a small square window. His head was lowered, his forehead pressed again his hands, propped up by his elbows leaning against his knees. He hadn't heard her enter and looked up only when she whispered his name.

"Hey," he breathed.

His eyes were red, his cheeks damp. Again, his voice sounded tight and tense. It was hard for Lucy not to run to him. She wanted to. Something inside her ached to rush to his side and embrace him, but she knew she shouldn't. She knew she should hold back, avoiding even the appearance of impropriety for the sake of his wife, her boyfriend, and their jobs. Her feet still carried her forward of their own accord, moving faster than she would have chosen consciously. He stood up as she drew near and with that one movement, only inches separated them.

On the day they'd met, she had briefly (if a little foolishly) allowed herself to envision the future. At the time, she hadn't realized it was far-off or distant, closer to a wish than reality. For a split-second she could imagine a similar picture now. One where she could wipe his tears away without feeling shame, without worrying about the implications, or what he, other officers, or the Captain herself might think. He deserved to be comforted when he mourned. He deserved a safe place when the world asked too much of him, and although she had resigned herself to being no more than his rookie, her desire to be a haven for him was deeply rooted. The image faded after a moment, evaporating almost as quickly as it came. Her hands remained at her side, and he thumbed stray tears away himself. She could hear the steady beeps of the monitor. The pace of his wife's heart, still going strong by some miracle despite the severity of her injuries. Lucy took a step back, thinking it would break the spell. Although the fantasy had gone, the urge to console him persisted.

"How did you know?" Tim asked in a whisper.

"Angela called me." She noticed his eyes narrowed as she named his friend. "She and Talia watched out for you while I took care of Nolan."

He managed a small smile, but it was devoid of any cheer; an expression out of habit rather than actual emotion. "I guess expecting Lopez to mind her business is too big an ask."

"Would you have called if it was left up to you?"

"I wasn't sure you'd want to know."

It hurt to think he still believed so little in her care for him, or didn't understand how much of her own energy was invested now, motivated solely by her consideration for him. She tried not to let her disappointment register on her face, saying only in response, "I'm glad she called." Then she motioned toward the bench, waiting until he sat before taking the space beside him. This time, she left ample room between their bodies. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"Do you want to go rest? I've slept a little tonight. I can stay here with Isabel if you want to go home."

"Not tired."

She hated to ask, but still wondered quietly, "Do you want me to leave?"

He paused long enough that Lucy thought he might say yes. If that's what he needed, she'd do as he asked.

"No," he said finally. "No, stay. Please."

There was a tone to his voice she'd never heard before, a hundred words worth of pleading in a single "please". It pulled at her heart. If this were happening to a friend -if this were Nolan or Jackson- Lucy would want to put her arms around them. She'd hold them close and try to encourage them with her words and her presence that everything would be okay. But this was Tim. He was her soulmate, but she couldn't call him a friend. There was a connection they so far lacked for her to be able to truly call him that and regard it on the same level as she did Nolan, Jackson, and others. At the same time, friend also didn't seem like a large enough word. They were somehow less than friends, but also much, much more than that.

She couldn't say that everything would be okay even if she wanted to. He'd warned her once about making promises she wasn't able to keep. She didn't see a way through this ordeal where everything would turn out all right. If Isabel lived -and how awful it was that that was only an "if"- her road to recovery would be long and arduous. It was possible she'd never be the same again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lucy asked. Tim shook his head. "What can I do?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"This," he finally said. "This is enough."

The remainder of the night passed in long, silent hours, with the only breaks being when nurses came by periodically to check on Isabel. Although he claimed he wasn't tired, Tim did end up dozing off around four in the morning. She shrugged out of Nolan's sweatshirt and balled it up to act as a makeshift pillow for him, then helped him lay down. The movement roused him a little, but he was too exhausted to fight her and only stirred for a moment or two before falling back asleep. Allowing him to stretch out on the bench left no room for Lucy, so she sat cross-legged on the floor, situated in front of Tim's chest. If she leaned back, her head brushed against his chest.

She was very careful to not lean back.

Without the sweatshirt, the hospital room was just a little too cold for her liking, but at least the chill helped keep her awake. That was good but also unfortunate, because time was determined to move at a crawl. It felt like days and not hours had lapsed before the sun began to peek through the window in orange and yellow rays. Shortly after sunrise, a nurse entered the room pushing a cart that held a computer and a tray of supplies.

"Shift change," the nurse said to Lucy. "Going to have to ask you both to leave for awhile."

Lucy responded with a wordless nod, then rose to her feet. Her hips and legs protested with every movement. Sitting on the tile for so long had been brutal on her joints. She hoped she could stretch the aches out a little on the walk to the car, otherwise she'd be working her next patrol with a limp.

She bent over Tim and put a hand on his shoulder, then whispered his name. It was all the wake-up he required. He opened his eyes slowly and sat up. He appeared no more rested than he had when he fell asleep, although now he did look a little sheepish.

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"A few hours. It's almost seven now," she replied.

Tim walked over to Isabel. Neither Lucy or the nurse said anything as he took hold of her hand, holding it gently in his own. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and murmured something Lucy couldn't hear. She was overwhelmed by his display of tenderness, by the quiet intimacy of the moment, and had to look away.

He didn't linger by her side much longer than that. When Tim left the room, Lucy followed.

"What now?" she asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Get to the station," he answered dully. "We've got work to do."

Lucy hadn't expected Tim to want to be back on the job so quickly. Neither had Sergeant Grey, if the worried looks he shot Bradford's way during the morning briefing were any indication, but he made no move to bar him from later participating in the operation to bring in the dealer who'd shot Isabel. She wasn't sure whether that was the right call or not, given how personal this was for him, but wouldn't contradict either officer. Since Sergeant Grey trusted Tim to keep his emotions in check during the raid, Lucy had no choice but to do the same.

The hunt for the dealer- a man that went by Vance- was all going down at the Bronson Estates, and if the "Bradford special" was any indication, Tim was gearing up for battle. At his insistence, both of them fortified their vests with trauma plates.

"This part of the 'special'?" she asked as she tucked the plate under her shirt, a poor attempt at injecting levity into the situation.

He wasn't amused, but responded drily, "Just a little added protection."

The goal was to find Vance's girlfriend, a young woman by the name of Cesiah Olivo. She would be their gateway into getting Vance. Tim and Lucy were joined by Angela, Jackson, and Talia, and it was determined that the best way to go about their objective was by splitting up. Each of the pairs took a floor, with Talia having one to herself. Lucy and Tim covered the third floor. Hers was the fourth apartment they'd checked. The intel had been good, but had overlooked a key detail. No one had mentioned that the girlfriend was pregnant, and thanks to a frequency jammer Vance kept in the basement of the building, they couldn't reach dispatch to call for backup. They were flying completely blind. Gunshots in the distance put Tim and Lucy on high alert.

A few minutes later, a voice spoke through the door.

"To the police officers inside. I'm here for Cesiah." Lucy's skin crawled at the sound of Vance's voice. Beside her, Cesiah stiffened. "Send her out and you walk away. You make us come in there, you won't."

Lucy positioned herself between Cesiah and the door as Tim replied. "No, you're not. You can't risk her getting hit in the crossfire. So you give up, and we'll make sure she gets to the hospital."

"I'm not leaving without my kid."

"And we're not leaving, period. So I'd say we're at a stalemate."

It bought them time, but not much. The door would only hold for so long and they couldn't call for help.

Then Cesiah's water broke.

Of all the ways Lucy anticipated the operation to pan out, delivering a baby was, uh… not on the list. Yet there they were, minutes away from a gunfight, with Tim standing guard at the door. Cesiah was in need, and there was no one else to help.

"Look, I know your birth plan didn't involve a cop and your couch, but I promise you," she grasped Cesiah's hand for emphasis, swearing to her, "I promise you, I will protect you and your child. Okay?"

Cesiah, her face red and glistening with the exertion of her rapidly progressing labor, nodded quickly. "Okay."

It was fortunate that Lucy was not alone, that she had Tim to handle the more violent aspects of the operation, allowing her to focus on Cesiah and her child. Despite the threat outside the apartment, the birth itself went smoothly. As Cesiah pushed with her encouragement, Lucy guided the baby out, catching and cleaning off the newborn using a towel before wrapping her in a blanket and handing the squalling baby girl to her waiting mother.

It was a strange, surreal moment of beauty. One that could not possibly last.

No sooner had Lucy removed her gloves than a group of men entered the room with guns drawn. She moved to grab her weapon, but not quickly enough. One of Vance's crew fired in her direction and the bullet struck her square in the chest.

The round didn't penetrate her trauma plate, butfuck,it still stung like hell. The force of the shot knocked her onto her back, and knocked the wind out of her, too. She was only down for a second or two, but that was all it took for Vance to make his way to Cesiah. A struggle over the baby had started, with Cesiah desperately trying to fight him off herself while Tim dealt with what remained of the crew.

The man who'd shot Lucy had mistaken her for dead. Why else would he have turned his back to her? One good kick to the back of his knee, and he fell. He turned on her quickly, but never regained the upper-hand and was down for good once she managed to pepper-spray, subdue, and cuff him.

Upon realizing that his men were incapacitated and he was outnumbered, Vance fled. Cesiah sobbed with relief, crying even as backup finally arrived and escorted the handcuffed criminals out.

Lucy went to console Cesiah as Tim excused himself. "Ambulance should be here by now," he said. "I'll lead them up."

After he left, Cesiah continued to cry. She cradled the baby to her chest and gently rocked back and forth.

"It's okay," Lucy said gently. "You don't need to be scared anymore. We'll make sure Vance won't come near you again."

"That's not it," Cesiah replied as she looked down at her daughter. Though the infant had screamed throughout the entire altercation, she was calm now. Calm and quiet. "She's here," she whispered in awe. "I can't believe she's here." Tiny tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.

Lucy sat beside her, near the baby's feet. From here, she could see the baby's face. She looked almost cherubic, chubby and perfect. One of her tiny hands had come out of the swaddle and was now tucked up under her chin. Short black hair crowned her head, a halo of fluff. She was absolutely precious. "Have you thought of a name?" Lucy asked.

Cesiah nodded with a smile. "Theresa. After my mother." She ran one finger over each of Theresa's little fingers, then looked up at Lucy. "Is your name just Lucy, or is it Lucille?"

"It's Lucille." Her dad had a soft spot forI Love Lucyreruns, which informed her birth name. There were worse people to be named after than Lucille Ball.

"Would it be okay if I gave her that as a middle name?" she asked.

Humbled, Lucy nodded quickly, smiling her agreement as she gazed at the baby. "Theresa Lucille. It's a beautiful name. And with such an exciting start, I doubt your life will ever be boring, little one." Both women laughed at that, even as Lucy's eyes began to well up.

Tim returned then, accompanied by paramedics hauling a stretcher. They tended to Cesiah immediately. Lucy was quick to brush her tears away with her knuckle, but he still caught it.

"Going soft on me, Chen?" he joked, but his voice sounded uncharacteristically tender.

She shook her head quickly. "Of course not, sir."

"Good. You okay?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. I, uh…" he hesitated for a moment, "I saw you took a hit. Not going to lie, it scared the shit out of me when you went down."

At that, she had to smirk. "Don't tell me you're worried about me, Bradford?"

She figured he would say no, maybe crack a joke at her expense for even asking. Instead, his answer surprised her, one word rendering her speechless.

"Always," was all he said.

There was a mountain of paperwork to complete concerning the operation. While no one said as much, an unspoken agreement united the cops who had been part of the raid; they were determined to get Vance put away for good, which meant the reports needed to be airtight. Tim drove her back to the station but disappeared shortly after, which was fine by Lucy. She understood his mind was elsewhere and did not hold it against him as she completed the filing alone.

It was close to five p.m. by the time Lucy left, and she was wiped out. The adrenaline high from the events of the last twenty-four hours had faded and fatigue was setting in, a deep exhaustion that made her feel tired down to her bones. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep the entire clock around, but her promise to visit Cesiah was fresh in her mind. She also had dinner plans with Cam, although she scarcely had the energy for one engagement let alone both; she would need to choose one. It wasn't a hard decision. One was plans, and one was a promise. Cam would understand, she thought blithely as she slid dialed his number while walking to her car.

She was right, of course. He understood, as he always did whenever she had to cancel, but sounded uncharacteristically disappointed tonight. "What happened?" he asked.

Whatdidn't.She'd dealt with a week's worth of excitement in a single day. To tell him all of it would too much for a phone call. "Had a late night last night and a full day today," she replied instead. "I'm beat."

"I didn't think you were working last night." It wasn't an accusation, per se, but there was a perceptible edge to his statement.

"I got called in to help my TO with something." That was technically the truth; shewascalled by Angela. "It was a little out of the blue." Then, she said, "You're upset."

There was a moment where he didn't answer. "No, I'm not."

She could tell by his tone then and by his previous comments that that was a blatant lie, but what could she do? She didn't want to cause an argument by insisting, so she ignored it for now, apologized profusely, and told him she'd call the next day. The call ended a moment later, and she chucked her phone onto the passenger's seat before pulling out of the parking lot and heading towards the hospital.

The paramedic that oversaw the transport had informed Lucy that Cesiah and her child were taken to Cedars-Sinai, the same hospital where Isabel was currently being treated. If Lucy were a pessimist, she'd have written it off as nothing more than a coincidence; having a small measure of faith, she chose to consider it providence. Some sort of sign, though what kind, she wasn't sure yet.

The sun was almost finished setting by the time Lucy arrived. It was a little too dark to qualify as "golden hour", the sky more purple than pink and orange, but there was still light enough that the street and parking lights had not turned on yet. It amused her to acknowledge that she'd been here earlier and witnessed the sunrise, and now returned in time for nightfall. This had been the longest day.

She parked and got out of her car, but only made it a few steps before she heard her name being called. Lucy turned to see Tim about twenty feet to her right. He stood beside his truck, but walked towards her when she met his eyes. She crossed to meet him halfway.

"Are you visiting Isabel?" she asked.

Tim nodded. "Just did. Checking on Cesiah?"

"Yep. Her and little Theresa Lucille," she said with a grin.

"Wow, a namesake. Big honor." He didn't smile, but she could hear the teasing in his voice. "Try not to let it go to your head."

"Oh, don't worry. I definitely will," she replied with a laugh. Then, she asked, "How is Isabel?"

His pause was long enough that she began to fear for the worst. "She pulled through surgery," he replied, and Lucy exhaled as relief washed over her. "The doctors have high hopes she'll manage a normal life after this."

Normal. After all she had been through, what would a normal life look like for Isabel Bradford? She'd probably need physical therapy of some sort. Would she go to rehab, too? If she did and was successful in staying clean, it was probably just a matter of time before she was back at Tim's side. Her rightful place.

Lucy kept those wonderings to herself, though. There would be time for questions later, now that Isabel was out of the woods. She responded to him cheerfully, although a good deal of that cheer was feigned for his benefit. "That's great news. I'm really, really happy for you, Tim."

"Yeah," he replied, both his face and voice devoid of any emotion. "Thanks."

A stretch of awkward silence followed. Desperate to fill it (and also because it was the truth), Lucy said, "I'm sorry about Isabel. I'm so sorry. If I'd known that this would happen, I wouldn't have-"

"- Hey, shhh. Don't. Don't do that," he chided gently. "What happened to Isabel isn't on you."

With anyone else, she would've taken that as a pardon, but she knew him well enough that she didn't trust that to be the case here. He may have been offering her absolution, but she guessed it was not without a trade-off. It was likely he didn't blame her because he blamed himself.

After a beat, she whispered, "It's not on you either."

His dismissiveness confirmed her suspicions. "Yeah, I know."

"Do you?"

Once he realized she wasn't going to allow him to just brush it off, he responded more deliberately through a frown. "Yes, Lucy. I do."

Appeased for now (but she'd be looking to belabor the point later if necessary), she replied, "Okay. Good." She turned to go.

"Lucy," he called, "when were you going to tell me about the break-in at Nolan's?"

The crease in her brow deepened as she faced him again. How on earth had he… she realized the truth a split-second later. Oh. Great.Dammit, Angela,Lucy thought as she gritted her teeth. "I'm guessing Lopez told you."

He gave her a grin that was small and wry. "See? You can't trust her. She has it out for us."

"Seriously," she agreed, "but, to answer your question: eventually."

"Eventually?" He was neither impressed nor satisfied with her vague answer.

"You had enough going on with Isabel and," she shrugged, feeling a bit bashful as she confessed quietly, "I thought you were mad at me."

Tim was visibly confused by this revelation. "Wait, what? You thought I was mad at you?" When she said yes, he told her, "I thoughtyouwere mad atme."

"Me?" she scoffed. "That's ridiculous. Why would I be mad at you?"

"I don't know. Because…" he looked away. "I guess I thought you felt like I let you down."

"You thought… I felt… like you let me down?" She had to say it aloud herself in an attempt to make sense of it.

He bristled a little as she stumbled through the sentence. "I realize how dumb it sounds now."

"I didn't say that," she replied as she ran over their most recent interactions in her head. Except for their confrontation outside Isabel's apartment, Lucy couldn't think of a single instance where that thought could've gained a foothold. Sure, he annoyed her sometimes, infuriated her others, but he'd also come clean to Nell about his underhanded methods during the round up. He'd stopped short of helping his wife. Both -all- because Lucy had asked. Every time she'd indicated that she expected better from him, he'd risen to the challenge.

Let her down? Not even close.

"I wish you would've talked to me sooner," she whispered.

"Yeah, well. I wish you would've talked to me, too." His answer came across pointedly, a clear reference to her holding back the break-in at Nolan's.

Chastened, she apologized. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Tim replied.

They said goodbye soon after and went their separate ways. It was a rather anticlimactic end after a week of building up to a blowout, only to find that the tension between them had all been a misunderstanding. She didn't leave the conversation thinking all of their issues were magically resolved, but they were on better terms than they were when the day had begun. She was still learning how to walk the line between colleagues and soulmates, but Lucy was more determined than ever to do it well. She hoped Tim felt the same way.

Chapter 13: Maybe Next Year

Notes:

"Easy to let you go most of the time
The ache in my chest has been slipping my mind
See on the screen it's a wonderful life

I wish you were here
Maybe next year"
- "Maybe Next Year", Jenny Owen Youngs

Chapter Text

It felt like Lucy blinked, and suddenly it was Christmas. No, time hadn't really moved that fast, but the days were so full of training and the nights with studying and friends and her boyfriend that the last two weeks until the holiday flew by. She made plans with her family, deciding the upcoming holiday was when she'd take Cam to meet her parents. Not that there was everreallya good time to subject anyone to her mom and dad, but Christmas, when their sharper edges would be softened by the holiday spirit, was as good a time as any.

Her plans were thrown into flux when with just a handful of days to go, Tim informed her they'd be picking up a 12-hour shift on Christmas Day.

It wasn't uncommon for shift trades to take place around certain popular holidays. Tim had been offering to pick up shifts for the big ones long before he was her TO, or so he said. He considered it a chance to build camaraderie with officers who would appreciate the time at home more. Lucy had learned by now not to complain when he made calls like that, and to be honest, she thought it was sort of sweet that he'd volunteer to work on Christmas Day so someone like Officer Wrigley could spend the morning at home with his kids. She had enough notice that changing plans with Cam wasn't an issue; he usually took December 24th through the first of the year off anyway, since so few people were interested in working out in the middle of their holiday celebrations. He treated it as a sort of last hurrah before the New Year resolution-ers flooded his classes. She informed her parents that she would have to cancel, and asked whether they would be willing to celebrate on Christmas Eve or the 26th instead.

They were less understanding than Cam had been. In fact, her mother was livid, irate at even the suggestion of moving their celebration.

"Absolutely not. Lucy, Christmas is afamilyday," her mother whined. "Why you chose a job that disrespectsfamily,I'll never know."

And here she'd thought she'd heard all her mother's arguments against becoming a police officer. Lucy gritted her teeth, fighting to keep her restraint in check. "My job doesn't disrespect family, Mom," she replied. "Sometimes I will have to work holidays. Sometimes things come up. You wouldn't tell an ER nurse to stay home on Christmas. Emergencies happen."

Her mother sniffed in displeasure. "Well, can't you tell your boss no?"

"No, mother," she replied and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. She could feel a tension headache brewing with every passing second. "No, I really can't. I have to do what they tell me for my entire probationary period. No questions asked."

"What if you just don't go?"

"Then I'll get fired, Mom."

"And I suppose that would be so bad?"

She suppressed a heavy sigh. "Yes, Mother. That would be bad." After months of her parents expressing disappointment in her for no other reason than her choice to pursue police work over psychology, Lucy was reaching a tipping point. This was who she was, this is what she wanted to do, and she was tired of letting them cut her down over her choices. When she said as much to her mother, she answered not with words, but by hanging up. Just like that, Christmas with the Chens was officially canceled.

An hour after the conversation with her mom and following one tear-filled call to Cam, Lucy realized it was probably for the best. Her parents had been so vocally against her choice of career since the beginning. The disdain they harbored for her job had only increased when she visited them for Thanksgiving. She would've been mortified if they behaved that way in front of Cam. Besides, while Mom had not figured out that Tim was her daughter's training officer, her mother had managed through her own craftiness to learn that Lucy worked with her soulmate, which was in closer proximity than she'd yet confessed to Cam. She hadn't been sure whether to trust her mother to not let that slip at some point in the evening, and was relieved that she no longer had to consider bringing her in on the secret.

She still hadn't told Cam the truth about her soulmate; about Tim. Lucy wanted to, but the timing never seemed right. The longer she went without telling him, the harder it would be; therefore, it was getting easier and easier to convince herself that she could pull this off without ever bringing it up. Pullwhatoff, exactly, she didn't know, but nevertheless she postponed that talk once again.

Christmas Eve arrived and with their original plans scratched, Lucy had scrambled to make new ones. She and Cam exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve, then Facetimed with his family on the East Coast before sitting down to a Christmas dinner they claimed to have cooked together in pictures he posted to his Instagram. In truth, Cam cooked all the sides and dessert. The honey-baked ham was catered. Her contribution was a pitcher of homemade sangria. They ate dinner, then cuddled on the couch watchingIt's A Wonderful Life.Lucy had seen the movie a dozen times before, but something about it this time hit her differently. She realized midway through that James Stewart reminded her of Tim. Not in looks; for as handsome as Jimmy had been, Tim was taller, more muscular, and in her opinion, much more attractive. It was their natures that seemed similar. Even-keeled, but passionate when the moment called for it. Humorous when he felt like it. Tim even used old-fashioned slang like George Bailey. Memories of him saying things like "hot damn" and "good night, nurse" came to mind, and she chuckled even though the scene onscreen was not particularly humorous.

"What's funny?" Cam asked.

"Nothing," she said, biting down on the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling."It's just that my TO talks like Jimmy Stewart."

She spent the night as Cam's apartment and departed early on Christmas morning in order to stop by her apartment before her shift. He'd packed her a care package the night before. It was filled with leftovers and one whole pecan pie just for her, which she grabbed from the fridge before returning to the bedroom to say goodbye. Lucy kissed him softly before she left, once on his lips and twice more against his temple, then whispered "Merry Christmas" in his ear. He stirred just enough to say it back, but was asleep again by the time she shut the bedroom door behind her.

"Merry Christmas!" Lucy exclaimed when Tim joined her at the shop after she'd finished kitting up following the morning briefing.

He absorbed her greeting, but didn't reciprocate it. Hell, he didn't even say hello. All he responded with was, "Is it?"

Her brows knit together at his response. "I take it you don't celebrate?"

"I didn't say that," he replied, swinging open the driver's side door as he spoke. He gave no explanation, but she was familiar enough with his moods by now to know to avoid bringing up Christmas again for the sake of peace during their shift.

It was a few hours into the day before Lucy realized wishing him a happy holiday might have been unintentionally insensitive. From what she knew, he was on his own and had been for quite awhile. If he had a relationship with his parents or any siblings, he never mentioned them. To her knowledge, his family extended only as far as his wife, from whom he was still technically estranged. With just a little perspective, she concluded it wasn't that he was cranky during the holiday like the Scrooge cliche she'd initially assumed him to be. If anything, he was probably sad. He was probably lonely, and as Angela had noted weeks ago in the hospital, Tim only projected the loner thing. He could handle being on his own, but he didn't always like it.

Their shift passed quickly, if not a little quietly. Most of their calls were domestic in nature. Pacifying familial disagreements was apparently a common issue on major holidays. Most arguments were resolved without so much as a citation, but occasionally a merrymaker or a family feud got rowdy. Consequently, they still made a handful of arrests. By the end of the day, what remained of Lucy's Christmas spirit hung by a fraying thread.

It was easier to get some of her joy back once she got home and remembered she had a fridge full of leftovers waiting for her. A Christmas dinner with all the fixings was just the thing to correct her mood.

Lucy carried her plate and a glass of wine to the living room and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television. The channel was still set to Turner Classic Movies when she turned the TV on. She'd zoned out on a Robert Redford marathon after studying the other night and never changed it. Now the programming had switched to Christmas movies, and who else should cross the screen but James Stewart, this time playing a shopkeeper in 1940s-era Hungary. Remembering how he reminded her of Tim the night before, her mind wandered. She thought of Tim in that little house by himself. What was he doing now, she wondered. Would he celebrate at all, or was he resigned to let the day pass him by without much fanfare? Within a second, she was on her feet and walking towards the kitchen. She covered her plate with a little aluminum foil and put it back in the fridge before packing up the rest of the leftovers and half of the pecan pie. Then, she drove to Tim's house.

She parked her car on the opposite side of the street to avoid alerting him to her presence. His truck was parked in the driveway, so she knew for certain that he was home. As she walked up, Lucy noticed the lights in the living room were on; so was the TV. Once she got closer, she realized he was watchingIt's A Wonderful Life.Lucy smirked to herself. The similarities between him and Jimmy may not have been as unintentional as she thought. She could not spot any Christmas decorations either in or outside the house, but she also didn't linger to find out for sure. Instead, she simply placed the bag of food on his doormat, got back in her car, and drove away. When she rounded the corner and was out of sight, she pulled over and sent him a text.

You should go check your doorstep.

A second later, she got a response.

Why?

Typical Tim, she thought with a smirk. Couldn't do a single thing she asked without questioning it first.Just do it okay? Merry Christmas.

A minute passed before she got another message.

You didn't have to do that. Thanks.

Lucy replied,I know I didn't. You're welcome,then drove back home, a satisfied smile on her face the entire way. She only noticed he'd sent another message as she put her car in park outside her apartment building.

Merry Christmas, Lucy.

If Lucy thought she'd get rest following Christmas, she was sorely mistaken. She was informed the day after Christmas that Cam and his six closest friends had a tradition they held dear. Every year, they pooled their financial resources (some of them quite ample) to rent a villa suite at the Waldorf-Astoria Beverly Hills, with the express purpose of hosting a party to ring in the new year. The parties were themed, and this year's event was a black and white party. Lucy was invited as Cam's plus one, and once Christmas was over, it was all he could talk about. This year he was in charge of RSVPs. He'd invited Jackson, who had said he'd try to stop by but wouldn't fully commit. Lucy invited Nolan, but he turned the invitation down outright. Henry was coming into town a few days after the New Year, and he had things to prepare to that end. Besides, he said, parties weren't his scene.

They weren't Lucy's scene either. She had never been to a black and white party before. She hadn't been to many parties before, period. She was a bit shy in college and had only been brave enough to attend a single kegger. She did fine when it came to going out with a small group of friends; even in a crowded restaurant, a core gathering of four or five was all she needed to have a nice time and not feel drained by the end of the night. With a party -and as a host's girlfriend- she was expected to meet forty-plus people. She was exhausted at the thought, but willing to bear the discomfort for Cam's sake. It was only one night, after all.

A party with a black and white dress code removed a little bit of the guesswork from planning her outfit, but the invitation also said "casual cocktail", which was just vague enough to be useless to her. Searching the term on Pinterest brought up a myriad of results with no consistent theme among them. Cam couldn't really help, but for context told her he planned to wear a black suit with a black button-up, and no tie. She offered to match him, but he encouraged her that wasn't necessary. He wanted her to wear whatever she wanted, be it black or white. She did a little searching, a little window shopping, but nothing caught her eye. On the day of the party and with only a few hours before she was meant to meet Cam at the hotel, she still hadn't chosen what to wear. Nothing she tried seemed right.

Out of desperation, Lucy scrolled through her contacts. Usually, she'd call her college best friend -Rachel- for things like this, but she was out of town visiting family. If she reached out to Nolan or Jackson, she knew they'd try to help, but she was also deeply terrified of howthat help might turn out. That left her with only one other person she could call, a co-worker she knew had an eye for fashion and would at least set her on the right course. It felt silly, just shy of stupid, and was little out of bounds of their working relationship as it currently stood.

Desperate times, desperate measures,she thought as she pressed dial on Angela's number.

"Lopez? Hey, it's Lucy. I know this sounds weird, but I need a favor."

It was lucky for her that Angela was available on short notice and feeling charitable, and even luckier that Cam agreed to invite her to the party as a way of saying thanks for helping. Within the hour, she was at Lucy's apartment, a garment bag of dresses in one hand and a box of separates, shoes, and accessories in the other.

"All right, Chen, let's do the damn thing." She marched her armful of clothing over to the couch and promptly dumped the box out before opening the garment bag and laying out the dresses.

"Holy shit," Lucy said as she watched her sofa disappear under Angela's clothing.

"What? You said you wanted options."

"Yeah, options. This," she gestured to the pile with a laugh, "is a storefront."

"Okay, I admit Imayhave gotten a little excited when you said it's a party," she admitted, then picked up a slinky black dress from the top of the heap. The front and back were covered in sequins of varying sizes. It appeared to be held up by two thin spaghetti straps and prayer. "Try this one on first."

They rotated through the outfits and after a few minutes of deliberation, landed on a bright white, form-fitting wiggle dress for Lucy. It fit her like a glove, and Angela wolf-whistled when she stepped out of the bathroom wearing it.

"That's the one, Chen. It's perfect."

"Really?" Lucy ran her hands over the folds of the fabric. She turned toward the mirror, cheating her body this way and that to see the dress from every angle. It was pure vanity, but she particularly liked the way the ruching cinched her waist, and how the skirt clung to her hips and ass. Once she paired it with white ankle-strap stilettos, she felt pretty sexy, but she still needed reassurance before making her final choice.

"Are you kidding?" Angela took a few steps closer and fiddled with the dress's shoulder draping as she spoke. "Cam won't know what hit him. If I weren't six days away from zero, I'd ask for your number."

The compliment was overshadowed by the news that Angela's timer was so close to completing its countdown. "What? You're zeroing out?" When they'd last spoken about timers, there had been a few months left on her clock. Lucy couldn't believe that much time had passed already.

Angela's face was a combination of joy and trepidation as she nodded. "Yep. Should meet my soulmate sometime on January 5th."

"That's great news, Lopez. I'm so happy for you!" When she didn't acknowledge her congratulations, Lucy asked, "Areyouhappy for you?"

She shrugged. "Just a little nervous, you know? There's the way I want it to go, and the way it will, and I'm trying to remind myself that those two things might not look the same at all."

Lucy could empathize with Angela's fears. "Believe me," she said, "I know exactly how you feel."

With Lucy's outfit decided, Angela procured hers from the options remaining. She combined two of the separates, deciding on a floor-length, black skirt with a slit up the side and a clingy, black, long-sleeved shirt that was cropped an inch above the waist. She chose to wear white heels with a pointed toe, a pop of contrast that drew attention to her toned legs with every step she took. After they were dressed, they got to work on hair and makeup. At Angela's suggestion, Lucy kept her makeup simple and natural except for a swipe of cherry red lipstick on her mouth. Angela went the opposite route, applying a smoky shadow to her eyelids and rouging her cheeks in a way that was dramatic, but not too much.

They saved hair for last. Angela was blessed with gorgeous, loose curls, which she wore down and tousled vigorously to encourage volume. Lucy had no such luck but thought soft waves would look nice with the dress. Although she knew her way around a curling wand, Angela offered. Lucy, touched by the gesture, didn't say no.

"I grew up with brothers, you know. Learned how to do hair at slumber parties in middle school." She clicked the curling iron's clamp shut twice, the ceramic clacking together with every snap. "Don't worry, Chen. I haven't burnt anyone in years," she teased.

As she curled her hair, Lucy said, "Thanks for helping me, Angela. That means a lot."

She tried to downplay it. "Please. I'm happy to help. Plus you're taking me to the Waldorf, so it's not like I'm getting nothing out of this." She finished styling, raked her fingers gently through the strands to break up the ringlets, then swept the whole lot over Lucy's left shoulder. She pinned it in place with a clip from her supplies, a dainty silver and pearl barrette. Moving her hair aside made the tattoo beneath her right ear a focal point; the effect was stunning, if Lucy said so herself.

"I know, I know," Angela said to her reflection with a grin as she pulled out her phone and snapped a few pics of the end result, "I'm amazing."

If Lucy had to define Cam's New Years Eve party with a single word, the word she'd choose would bechaotic.Although they got to the hotel just twenty minutes after the 9pm start time, it was already in full swing when Lucy and Angela arrived. Cam and his friends were a raucous bunch. Kind people, and fun, if just a little too rowdy for her tastes. It was good they'd rented the villa and not a smaller suite. The space gave them more room to spread out, and the partygoers split between the living room, the dining room, both bedrooms ("leave the doors open, thank you very much"), and the large private terrace that provided a picturesque view of Beverly Hills at night.

Lucy was glad Angela had come with her. Having a person to talk to other than her boyfriend made her feel a little less out of place. She'd thought she'd have that from Jackson too, but he'd so far failed to show up. Angela was happy to hang with her for a while, but she was also outgoing, vivacious, and looked incredible; she managed to ingratiate herself to Cam's friends quicker and with more success than Lucy had, and she felt selfish the longer she held Angela back. She spotted her every once in a while after that, catching her as she walked around taking pictures of the villa or with other partygoers. She even took a few candids of Lucy and Cam together.

Cam stayed by Lucy's side longer, but since he was one of the hosts, it was important checked on his guests. At first she followed him from person to person, but after a while felt like a puppy trotting behind him and let him go on his own. Left to her own devices, she sipped on a glass of champagne and tried not to look bored as she alternated between the terrace and the living room.

By 11:45, she was well and truly over it. Overwhelmed by the noise and by the crowd, Lucy craved a quiet place to regain her composure The party had spilled into the hallway, so that was no escape. One of the bedrooms would've been perfect, but the no-closed-door policy wrecked that idea. So she topped off her champagne and marched into the bathroom, then locked the door behind her.

Almost immediately, she felt the tension in her shoulders uncoil with just a little distance between her and the revelry. The door was heavy enough to block most of the sounds from outside, but the thump of music and the murmur of conversation occasionally made it through in a muted din. She removed her shoes and padded barefoot over to the bathtub, where she crawled into in the large square shaped marble tub and reclined.

She meant to relax for a minute, only looking to breathe and gather her thoughts and fortitude enough to see the night through, but as the minutes passed, Lucy decided to reach out to her absent friends and let them know how missed they were. Her first call was to Nolan. If the way her call went straight to voicemail was any indication, he was already asleep. For all she knew, he could've celebrated the new year on Eastern Standard Time and called it a night. That sounded like something he'd do. She giggled to herself as she dialed Jackson's number next.

He answered, but the sound that came through the phone speaker rivaled the noise from the living room. "Jackson?" she said, trying to speak over the ruckus without drawing attention to her hiding place.

"WHAT?" he yelled.

"Happy New Year!"

"WHAT?"

She tried again. "I said, Happy New Year!"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU! I'M AT A CONCERT."

"I noticed."

"WHAT?"

She hung up and texted him.

I was just trying to say Happy New Year. So, Happy New Year! And also RIP your eardrums.He didn't reply, but that was okay. She wasn't expecting an answer from any of her friends tonight.

Which brought Lucy to the next person on her list of recent contacts. Her thumb floated over Tim's name, too nervous to press dial. Even though they'd made up (so to speak), their relationship other than TO/Boot was still pretty undefined, despite the boundaries they'd tried to establish (and sort of failed to uphold). They were soulmates just beginning to know one another, and still strangers despite the months that had passed. Nowadays, it felt like they were trapped in a weird rhythm. They skirted forming an authentic connection the majority of the time, but moments where the shit hit the fan were like a brick on the gas pedal for their relationship.

Oh, well. Fuck it.Lucy thought, and pressed the green button with a confidence she didn't actually feel. This wasn't a big deal, she told herself. She was just going to wish him a happy New Year, just like she'd done for her other friends. It would be a totally normal, chill exchange, and nothing at all for her to be anxious about. Besides, it was late. There was a good chance he was already in bed. She'd probably get his voicemail and need to reiterate her greeting the next day.

He surprised her by picking up on the second ring. "Hello?"

She sat up straighter at the sound of his voice. "Hey, Tim. It's me. I mean, Lucy. It's Lucy."

"Why are you calling?" he asked. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything is fine," she replied. Leave it to him to assume something's wrong right off the bat. "I was just calling to say Happy New Year."

"… This couldn't have waited until our next shift?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to be nice here. You know what nice is, right?"

It was like he hadn't heard her. "Do you make a habit of calling people at midnight?"

"It's not midnight yet, and if you didn't want to talk, why did you pick up?" He didn't answer, and she, deflated by his sniping, said, "Whatever. I'll see you next shift." She moved to hang up.

"Lucy, wait." Tim said, and she slowly brought the speaker back to her ear. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." she repeated.

There was a thud outside the bathroom door, followed by a chorus of "ohhhhhhs" and a few shouts of "party foul". Whatever had happened, it was loud enough that Tim heard it and commented, "Where are you? It sounds like a war zone."

"Close," she replied with a wry chuckle. "I'm at a little shindig Cam and his friends are having."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Picture a frat party, then add a dash of fancy."

He sighed into the phone. "Probably a better night than I'm having."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she replied, sinking farther down into the tub. "What are you up to?"

"Sitting in bed and shopping for rehabs."

Yikes. She blushed, feeling embarrassed and a little sheepish for complaining to him so freely. "Okay. You win." Then she added in a brighter tone, "At least it's quieter there, right?" He confirmed it was. "And it's probably more comfortable than sitting in a bathtub."

"Is that where you are right now?" Tim asked. "In a bathtub?"

"You weren't wrong with that war zone comparison. I saw my escape, I took it, and I regret nothing." He laughed lightly at her answer. It was a nice sound, that laugh of his. She didn't get to hear it often. She could picture his smile; despite being a rare sight, Lucy knew by heart the way the lines around his eyes deepened with every grin, and how even a smirk formed handsome creases on either side of his mouth. "I wish I were there," she heard herself whisper. Then, realizing how that could be taken, she was quick to amend. "Where it's quiet, I mean."

Tim was silent for a long enough stretch of time that Lucy worried she'd managed to offend him. She hadn't meantthere, as in there with him. At least, she didn't think so. Or maybe she did. She certainly didn't mean to say that aloud, but before she could correct (or incriminate) herself further, he replied, "Maybe next year."

She tried not to dwell on the undercurrents of his response, nor did she attempt to pinpoint the nameless emotion that had filled each syllable of his answer. It almost sounded like hope, but it also hesitated. It was better to leave it be as the parsing would drive her crazy. "Yeah, maybe," she agreed in a whisper.

They both fell silent then, yet neither attempted to end the call. Instead, they let the peaceful moment stretch on for as long as possible, until it was interrupted by the sound of cheering and whistles. The countdown to twelve had just ended. The new year had begun.

"What's happening over there? It got loud again," Tim said.

"Must be midnight," Lucy replied, and a glance at her phone's clock confirmed it. "Look at that. 2019." She'd never been kissed at midnight on New Years Eve before. She'd never had anyone to kiss. Cam was going to be the first, and she missed it.

She realized almost immediately that she was not sorry for missing it. She was not sorry, and she did not regret it. To her, that revelation was both telling and sobering.

Not long after that, she heard a voice on the other side of the door. "Lucy?" Angela called, following it with three rapid knocks. "You in there?"

She scrambled to her feet, hopped out of the tub, and grabbed her shoes. "The enemy has spotted me," she joked to Tim. "Looks like I have to go."

"Okay," he replied, then added, "Happy New Year, Lucy."

"Happy New Year, Tim."

…Maybe next year.

Chapter 14: Priorities

Notes:

"Pretty soon you won't remember a thing
And I'll be distant, the stars reminiscing
Your heart's been wasted on me"
- "Decoy", Paramore

Chapter Text

Lucy was still struggling to redo the straps on her shoes when she opened the door to the bathroom. Angela stood on the other side, hand on her hip, a knowing smirk on her face. She'd discarded her shoes, too, and carried them in one hand by the heels. "Something wrong, Chen? You look a little…" she paused just to make Lucy squirm, her smirk widening as she finally said, "flushed."

She was tempted to touch her face to check, but resisted. She felt the warmth spreading across her cheeks and neck enough to know that Angela wasn't lying. "Nope, nothing wrong here. Just got a little overheated."

Angela pulled a face at that answer, pursing her lips in an unspokenuh huh,but didn't call her on it aloud. Instead, all she said was, "Cam is looking for you. You missed the countdown. I think the poor boy is bummed."

"Thanks. I'll check on him him," Lucy replied, and went off to find him. It took some looking, but she eventually located him outside on the terrace, still working through his glass of champagne from the toast at midnight. He greeted her with a smile, an embrace, and a kiss to her forehead. He was not, as Angela assumed, "bummed", but he did ask where she'd gone. "I was starting to get worried," he said.

She was quick to dispel his fears to the best of her ability. "Just needed to take a breather," was her true, but intentionally vague reply. "I sort of lost track of time." Then, to make up for it, she pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. Nothing too deep and certainly nothing heated, but it still earned them a few whoops and hollers from his nearby guests, which again made Lucy blush.

She and Angela did not stay too long after midnight. Both were expected at work in a few hours for the late morning shift. Being that Angela drove, once she decided to leave, Lucy had no choice but to follow. Normally she would've stuck out the rest of the evening for Cam's sake, but he planned to spend the night at the hotel in order to clean up the next morning. He snuck away from the party and his hosting duties long enough to walk Angela and Lucy out to the car, giving Lucy one more kiss before he left.

Neither woman said a word as they made their way out of the hotel parking garage. It was only after they were on the street, heading towards Lucy's apartment, that Angela said, "So. Cam seems nice."

Lucy nodded, sensing by her tone she was angling at something, but not yet knowing what thatsomethingwas. "Yep. He's a really good guy."

"And, if you don't mind me saying so, really handsome."

"Thanks. I know."

"Like, almost obscenely handsome. 'How-dare-he', handsome."

"Totally. Got it." Was there a point to this, or was it just to openly thirst over her boyfriend? She knew Angela grew up with just brothers, but if this was her attempt at a bonding technique, it was strange by all accounts.

She caught Angela grinning from the corner of her eye as she said, "Weird that he doesn't know your training officer is your soulmate, though."

Lucy froze in her seat. Dammit. SheknewAngela had been building up to something. Knew it the second she saw her cheeky look after she opened the door. In her panic over the party, Lucy's focus had been singular, thinking only about the right outfit to the point of obsession. She'd overlooked a major flaw in inviting Angela out, and only now had the sense to feel really foolish at such a huge oversight on her part. "How did you know that?" she asked, once her internal mini-meltdown subsided for the time-being.

Angela chortled. "Chen, come on. I'm gonna make detective one of these days. I can sniff out interpersonal shit in my sleep." Anyone else would've sounded smug making such an assertion. Not Lopez, though. She said it evenly, her tone matter-of-fact. "He asked me what I did for a living, I told him I worked with you at the police station as a training officer, and then he asked about yours. You can tell a lot about what a person knows by the questions they ask, and the questions he was asking proved he has no idea that your TO is your soulmate. He knows your soulmate is named Tim, but he doesn't even know your training officer's name."

"I didn't think it would come up," was her weak excuse. Okay, so that was not quite the truth, but it maybe wasn't a lie, either. She had brought up her connection to her TO (and concealment thereof) whenever necessary before now, specifically with Nolan and Jackson. She'd just forgotten tonight in all the haste of preparing for the party; neglectful on her part, sure, but not malicious. "If I'd known," Lucy whispered, "I would've said something."

"Like?"

"Like, asked you to avoid the topic if you could."

A look of disappointment crossed Angela's face. Lucy felt small beneath it. "That your response is not to tell him the truth, but to ask me to lie for you is pretty telling. He deserves honesty from you."

She looked down and nodded. "You're right. I know you're right." Then, she whispered, "It's just hard."

"What's so hard about it?"

"Well, for starters, we've been dating two months and I haven't told him." It was probably from stress, but the clip holding her hair in place was suddenly unbearable; itchy and heavy. Lucy tore at it ungracefully to remove it, working against tangles as she spoke again. "I went from meeting my soulmate, to meeting hiswifeand seeing every dream I had about him since I was fourteen evaporate in a second. But Cam didn't know any of that when I met him. He didn't know about Tim. He didn't know about Isabel, he didn't know that my soulmate was my TO. It was a clean slate, and… I mean, after everything that happened, don't I deserve one good thing? Oneeasything?" She sighed deeply. "I just wanted so badly to prove to myself I could be happy without him."

"Without Cam?"

"No," Lucy said, her next words heavy on her tongue. "Without Tim."

A pause followed, broken only by the sounds of the engine as they navigated streets filled with revelers. After the silence had lasted several minutes, Angela broke it.

"Let me ask you this," she began. "Do you want to be with Tim?"

Lucy hadn't been expecting that question. "I… don't see how that's relevant."

"Just answer."

More out of habit than instinct, she responded, "I don't think so," but that wasn't true; or at least, not the whole truth. "I don't know," was her next response, and closer to honesty than her first. "I think if he weren't married, this would be a different discussion, but he's with Isabel. He's with her, and he'll keep being with her. I mean, he was even shopping for rehabs for her tonight."

Angela's brow furrowed at this news. "How do you know that?"

"Imayhave called him while I was hiding in the bathroom." When Angela made a sound like protesting, she quickly added, "I was just trying to wish him a Happy New Year."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever, Boot." She shook her head and laughed. "Okay. So if Tim weren't with Isabel, what would you want to have happen?"

It was a scenario she tried not to entertain ever, even in her most private moments. So, with a deep breath in, she avoided it.

"I don't see how this is helpful," she replied and was quickly met by annoyed groans from Angela. "Heiswith Isabel. And anyway, even if he weren't, Talia thinks I shouldn't be thinking about my soulmate during my rookie year, and she's probably right."

"Talia said that?" Understanding dawned over Angela's face as more pieces fell into place for her. "Geez. If I'd known you were taking advice from Bishop, I would've changed my tack."

"Your 'tack'?"

"Let me ask you this," Angela said, glossing over Lucy's confusion without a second thought, "What exactly did Talia say to you?"

She tried to remember. "It was months ago. She made it sound like it would be complicated, if not impossible." There was more, but it took some thinking before she recalled it all. "I think she's worried it'll negatively affect my career. And I know she said I deserve the chance to choose who I want to be with. That I don't have to default to Tim just because my timer says so."

"And is that what Cam is? You choosing who you want to be with?" When she didn't reply, Angela forged on. "Choosing someone else isn't as simple as choosing todatesomeone else, Lucy. It's putting someone else first. It's prioritizing them. How can you possibly prioritize Cam if you won't be completely truthful with him?"

To that, Lucy had no answer.

A few days passed without another mention of their conversation on New Years from Angela. Her absence at midnight was never questioned by Cam himself, and never spoken about any farther than "I missed you" and "there's always next year". That he was so unbothered about it made her almost feel worse.

Even though Tim never brought up their phone call, content to pretend it hadn't happened during the days that followed, Lucy sensed a shift after the holidays were over. She got the feeling that she was approaching something like equity with him. Not on the job, maybe, but from an emotional standpoint. The changes in their interactions were muted, but positive. She still wouldn't call them friends yet, but calling him had broken the ice a little bit. It seemed to her he finally realized they could show one another kindness without it being a betrayal to Isabel and without it complicating the job. She hoped it lasted, but was anxious as the days went on, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She'd been down this road before with him, making progress only to experience a setback that sent her to all the way out of his circle of trust. Fearing it would happen again wasn't weakness on her part; it was self-preservation.

The Saturday after New Years, Lucy walked into the briefing room to find Angela seated at one of the tables towards the back of the room. Tim sat to her left. Jackson stood in the aisle at her right, and they were peering at something in her hands. As Lucy got closer, she realized it was a stack of photos that Angela was thumbing through. While Jackson looked engaged, Tim appeared disinterested, scrolling through the news on his phone and only looking up intermittently as she explained what was happening in each picture.

Lucy joined them just as Angela reached a photo of Lucy. There was a split second where she didn't recognize the woman in the photo as herself. She was standing in front of her bathroom mirror, and the image was captured from behind and slightly to the right; the angle obscured most of her front, but the reflection of her face was still visible.

"Oh, I love this one," Angela said, showing the picture to Jackson first. "She looks incredible, doesn't she?" Jackson agreed, giving a thumb's up in Lucy's direction.

"Please," Lucy said, trying to sound humble as she looked over the photo. "The dress and hair did most of the work."

"Come on. Give yourself some credit, Chen." Angela replied. Then, she put the picture front of Tim's face, covering his phone so he had no choice but to look at it. "What do you think Bradford?" She looked at Lucy and cocked one eyebrow as she said with a smirk, "Doesn't your Boot look just amazing in white?"

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. "Lopez!" Lucy stammered, shocked by her audacity even as Angela laughed at her.

Tim was unfazed; he only glanced at the picture once, then up at Lucy, and managed to keep his face pretty impassive throughout. It was only that she had been looking for and studying his micro-expressions for months that Lucy even caught the way his jaw clenched. Once she saw that, it was impossible not to notice the subtle lift of his throat as he swallowed, indicating that despite his efforts, maybe he wasn't as unmoved by the photo as his disinterest would imply. "Looks nice, I guess," was his response, but she knew better and bit back a flattered smile.

Angela, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny, slowly flipped to the next picture. This one was of Lucy and Cam, a moment she hadn't realized had been caught on camera. Their bodies were pressed together in a close embrace. Lucy arms were wrapped around his waist. One of Cam's hands pressed between her shoulder blades and the other rested at the nape of her neck. They were smiling softly at one another, eyes locked, as they stood on the terrace. It must have been taken either right before or right after their belated midnight kiss. Despite how rushed the moment felt at the time, it translated much more romantically in pictures.

Once more, Angela showed the photograph to Jackson first. "Oh, and this one, too. Cam is seriously one of the most beautiful men I've seen up close." She looked at Lucy with a wry smile. "I guess you knew that though, didn't you, Boot?"

This one Tim was more interested in. "Let me see," he said. Angela tilted it his way. He studied it longer than he'd bothered to the picture of Lucy, staring for a whole minute before dismissing it with a scoff. "He just looks like a person."

Angela answered him haughtily. "Sure. And Shakespeare's 'just' a poet."

Luckily, Sergeant Grey entered the room before the two could trade more barbs, and all conversation came to a halt. Jackson and Lucy hurried to their seats at the front. She barely heard the content of the briefing, only perking up when Captain Andersen came into the room and announced that they'd be riding together for the day. It was an unexpected blessing to have a break from Tim that day; after Angela's wholethingwith the pictures, she didn't think she was prepared to sit in close quarters with him, torn between discussing it and pretending nothing had happened.

She was more confident in approaching Angela though, catching her before she went to the kit counter. "Can I ask what that was about?"

"What? With the pictures?" Angela asked, then shrugged. "Oh, you know. I'm thinking about taking up scrapbooking."

"No, no. I meanwhy?"

At this, she grinned. "What? You didn't really think I spend my free time with Boots on the regular, did you?" She chuckled. "If you couldn't tell I had an ulterior motive the moment I agreed to help you, that's on you. Maybe don't pursue detective, yeah?"

"'Ulterior motive'?" Lucy's confusion morphed into concern, and she wondered, "Just what is it you're trying to do?"

"Nothing you can prove, but with any luck," Angela winked at her, "you'll thank me later." Then she turned away, leaving Lucy to wonder what the hell she meant bythat.

No sooner had Angela walked away than Tim approached her. She thought he was walking by, but no. He'd been looking for her.

She instantly tried to apologize for what happened in the briefing room. "I'm sorry about that," she began..

"About what? Lopez?" He scoffed a second time. "Ignore her. She's just trying to get under your skin."

Lucy muttered, "Just mine?"

"What was that, Boot?"

"Nothing." She straightened and met his eye, pushing aside all her questions for now. "Did you need something?"

Turns out, he did. He didn't come to talk about the pictures (although she knew he wouldn't). He came to ask her to pack supplies for him and Talia as well. Since their boots were riding with Captain Andersen and Sergeant Grey, he and Bishop were teaming up for the day; Lucy guessed it was a point of contention between both of them that neither wanted to submit to loading up, a job typically reserved for rookies and officers of lower ranks. So, with a sigh, she went to the kit counter and asked for supplies enough for two shops. She was in the process of picking up all the gear (and feeling like a damn pack mule while doing it) when Captain Andersen walked up and frowned.

"What are you doing, Officer Chen?" she asked.

"Oh, um. Officer Bradford told me to set up his and Officer Bishop's shop as well."

Captain Andersen cocked one eyebrow at this answer. "Huh," she said, then called over her shoulder a second later. "Bradford! Bishop!" The pair stepped out of the garage when beckoned, acknowledging the Captain as a unit, but Tim looked at Lucy with a frown. "Officer Chen is my Boot today. Is that clear?"

They both said yes, and Tim stepped forward to take some of their gear from Lucy's hands. As he did, he whispered, "Tattletale."

She shrugged off the juvenile insult, and shot back with a smirk, "Have a good day, sir."

Lucy didn't know what to make of Captain Andersen choosing to ride with her. The obvious choice had been Jackson, being both a legacy and eager-to-please. Nolan would've made sense as well, because what superior wouldn't want to see firsthand how the oldest rookie was adapting? That she chose to ride with her made Lucy feel honored and anxious in equal measure. She wanted to impress the Captain, but also understood this was an opportunity to learn from one of the best in a one-on-one setting, a chance not typically afforded to rookies.

Her largest takeaway from the morning was not Captain Andersen's strength, but her compassion. Their first call of the day was for a domestic dispute; a divorcing husband and wife having an argument, which quickly took a tragic turn. Lucy had been instructed to walk Mr. Ghorbani out of the house, but he broke away from her grasp, hurried up the stairs, and fatally shot himself despite the Captain's attempts to talk him down. Entering the room to find his body… it was Lucy's first experience with suicide while present on the scene. A part of her always held the belief that she was better equipped for psychiatric calls than the other rookies thanks to her background. Being raised by psychiatrists and a psych major herself, had instilled her with a belief in her abilities that unfortunately didn't translate to results.

She took Mr. Ghorbani's death pretty hard. Personally, even. Captain Andersen guessed as much, consoling Lucy when she pointed out she let the man get upstairs. She didn't need to say she blamed herself for the Captain to pick up the inference.

"Yes, you did," the Captain agreed. Then, much more gently, she said, "He's not dead because of that." No more was said, and Lucy still felt responsible to a degree, but it was a productive feeling. She was determined to work harder next time to prevent tragedy, and wouldn't coast on any unearned confidence.

The second call of the day was, thankfully, less tragic, but still held its own measure of violence. Another dispute, this time between two neighbors arguing over -of all things- a parking spot. After the tragedy at the Ghorbani house, this felt trite by comparison. Something to be solved by simple, civil conversation, and certainly not worth calling cops over.

"It's a parking spot," she said, a little too glib to be considered professional. "Just get another one."

Whether it was her words or just her tone, her statement was soon revealed to be the wrong thing to say, and only proved to further incite the anger of both men. The argument escalated, culminating in the man in the dress shirt lunging towards the one in the jersey. She restrained the first just as his neighbor swung his clenched fist in their direction. Lucy ducked, but still heard a crack. His punch had landed on someone. She looked up to see the Captain reeling back.

She'd felt like a failure after Mr. Ghorbani. Now she wasmortified. Captain Andersen would return to the precinct with a black eye, and Lucy was sure to receive a well-deserved ribbing from, well, everyone for letting the Captain take a hit on her watch.

She ordered the man on the ground with his hands behind his back, but got no farther in the process of arresting him before Captain Andersen took over. The bruise on her cheek bloomed over the course of the drive back to the precinct, and Lucy cringed to imagine the teasing she'd earn from Tim and others.

"I shouldn't have ducked," she said as they arrived back at the station and went to process the neighbor who had punched.

Captain Andersen didn't agree. "Relax. It was instinct. I should've ducked, too." She chuckled and touched the shiner gingerly. "Guess I'm a little rusty. I didn't always push a desk, you know. I was in the Marine Corps. Military police."

Lucy was astonished. "I didn't know that. I… well, I guess I thought you were from another department back east somewhere."

Andersen shook her head. "Not quite. Did a year as Pentagon Police, though. Moved back home, joined the LAPD, and because of my experience I burned through the ranks pretty quickly. These other guys don't see me as a cop; only as a boss."

"Maybe you should tell people," Lucy suggested as they walked toward booking.

At this, Andersen smirked. "You don't tell people you're a badass, Officer Chen. You show them."

They processed their arrest, after which point Captain Andersen had to return to her office to get some stats the chief had requested. Lucy was more than willing to stay at the precinct while she got the paperwork completed; she had her own to do as well, and was just about to head to the bullpen to complete it when Jackson and Angela walked into booking with a man in handcuffs, trailed by what looked to be a lawyer.

She greeted Jackson, then nodded towards the lawyer and Angela, who were engaged in a heated discussion. "What's going on there? Lopez looks furious."

"It's been a weird day," Jackson replied with a sigh before he whispered conspiratorially, "he's her soulmate."

She gasped, but quickly covered it with her hand; a smart move on her part, since the surprise quickly dissolved into a laugh. They watched the pair argue, but all throughout, the sparks between the two were evident.

"Well," Lucy remarked with a soft smile, thinking of the moment her timer went off, "I guess it could be worse."

The rest of the day was as eventful of the first half, with Captain Andersen holding off a would-be-murderer on nerve alone. Before Lucy could really comprehend just how damn impressive the Captain was in that (and every) moment, Tim entered the reception area smelling like he'd rolled in pure manure. Everyone gagged, even her, although she tried to measure her reaction for the sake of his pride.

"Um," she stammered, "did you get… skunked?" He skulked away without answering, but the question was more a formality than anything. There was no mistaking that smell.

Lucy and Captain Andersen didn't make it back out for patrol. The paperwork necessary after processing the parolee who threatened an innocent bystander was extensive; the Captain was no ordinary officer, and therefore, ordinary reporting would not suffice. Extra information was required to make sure the entire case was above board, although Lucy wasn't sure whether that was department policy, or just Captain Andersen's preferred way of doing things. It was obvious she held herself to a very high standard, expecting nothing of the officers under her command that she would not first demand of herself.

It was close to six by the time Lucy finished her paperwork for the day, clocked out, and went to the locker room. As she unbuttoned her top, she glanced through her texts. A few things from Jackson had come through; mostly him freaking out (in a funny way, of course) about Angela matching with a public defender. Cam had texted inviting her to a movie with friends. She wasn't really in the mood for going out, but she thought it would be nice to see him, so she accepted, agreeing to meet him at the theater in an hour.

After messaging him, she took an extra long shower; even though she hadn't touched Tim after he came into the station smelling like a dumpster, shesworeshe could detect the scent in her hair. She hadn't packed a hair dryer, so she twisted her wet locks into to neat braids that hung over her shoulders, dressed, then stopped by Captain Andersen's office.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked after knocking twice.

Captain Andersen waved her in. "Not at all."

She stepped inside the office and walked shyly towards her desk. "I just wanted to say I really enjoyed riding patrol with you today. I learned a lot, but um…" well, there was no way around this next part, "I'm worried I let you down, and for that I'm sorry."

The Captain's expression was inscrutable as she asked, "And how do you think you let me down?" She could take her pick. Mr. Ghorbani? The punch? Those were the big ones, and even though there were some victories (a credit more to the Captain than herself), it felt like a day with more misses than wins. Before Lucy could specify, Andersen added, "Officer Chen, do you know why I chose to ride with you today?"

She shook her head. "No, ma'am."

"Because you impress me." The Captain understood the weight of such a declaration, and allowed Lucy the time to absorb it. "Don't get me wrong. You have a lot to learn, but I'm proud to have you under my command."

She left the office feeling proud and promptly came across Tim in plainclothes. He still stunk to high heaven, and she buried her nose in her arm as she greeted him.

He was not amused. "It's not that bad."

"I promise you, it is." She pointed to his hand. "What you got there?"

He held up a can of tomato juice. "Bishop thinks she's funny."

"Yeah, I'm sure she's playing a joke. She couldn't possibly be motivated by anything else, like her gag reflex." He laughed just a little, and mostly in spite of himself, if she knew him at all. "You gonna be okay?"

Tim looked at her. "I'm about to take a bath in marinara. I'm obviously living the dream." He again chuckled, but it was notably joyless. "See you tomorrow, Boot?"

She nodded. "Tomorrow," she answered, and watched him go without another word, not moving again until she was suddenly struck by a sort of impulsive idea.

Lucy pulled out her phone and dialed Cam's number. "Hey," she began when he answered, "I know I literally just said yes, but I'm not going to make it to the movie. Can I meet you after?"

Unlike other times she'd canceled, Cam didn't try to hide his disappointment. "Why? What happened?"

"I think my TO needs my help."

"So, you're working late again?" he asked.

"No, not exactly," she answered. "It's… well, believe it or not, he got sprayed by a skunk today."

There was a pause as she waited for Cam to answer. Finally, he said, "I think the man can give himself a bath, babe."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, Cam. I'm just going to take him some extra supplies and dinner, okay?" When he tried to retort, she cut him off, "He's been having a really hard time lately. He lives alone. I'm just trying to do something nice for him."

"Oh, because he's so nice to you?" Although she'd withheld specifics like his name, Lucy had still been open with Cam about Tim's occasionally harsh handling during the workday.

She frowned. "That's not fair. He doesn't have to be nice to me. He's my TO." Then, she added with disbelief, "I can't believe you're getting this upset about me wanting to help him."

"Don't twist my words, Lucy. You know that's not why I'm upset."

"Then why are you?"

"Because this is not the first time you've canceled because of your TO," he said. His voice had moved beyond irritation and sounded truly upset. She didn't like that she'd hurt his feelings, but she also didn't think his complaint was entirely fair. "I know your job is important to you, and I support that. I've never once said anything when you've had to work late, but this isn't something youhaveto do. Your TO can take care of himself, can't he?"

"Yes, he probably can," she agreed, but still stood firm.

Another pause, and then Cam added wearily, "Your mind is made up, isn't it."

"Yes."

He sighed. "Fine. I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow, if you find the time." Then he hung up.

His last words were a low blow, but Lucy had to admit the jab was not unearned. He was right to point out she'd canceled several dates or hangouts with him in favor of helping Tim after work; this was just the first time she hadn't insinuated it was mandatory according to her job. The others hadn't been, either, but he didn't know that. She thought about what Angela said, about how choosing someone else wasn't just dating, but prioritizing. It didn't take an aspiring detective to see that Lucy was not giving proper consideration to her relationship. The realizationshouldhave given her pause. She should have felt badly, but she didn't.

Lucy tried not to dwell on why that might be.

Chapter 15: "Tim Bradford: Proof every trash can has its lid."

Notes:

"My yellow in this case is not so mellow
In fact I'm trying to say it's frightened like me
And all these emotions of mine keep holding me from
Giving my life to a rainbow like you
But I'm bold, I'm bold as love"
- Jimi Hendrix, "Bold As Love"

Chapter Text

Unlike the handful of other times she had come to Tim's house, this time Lucy wasn't relegated to waiting in the car, nor did she skulk around his front door, afraid of being caught. Grocery bags in hand, she stood on the front porch and rang the doorbell. He didn't answer immediately, so she rang twice. When Tim finally answered, she noticed he'd changed a second time, but it did nothing to mask the skunk smell. She tried not to cringe when the scent hit her.

"What are you doing here, Lucy?" he asked, apparently already irritated. She wondered if there would ever come a time that he would greet her with anything like pleasantries. Then again, she'd probably be in a sour mood if she'd gotten skunked. Hell, all things considered, he was almost being nice.

"I'm here to help," she said, and held up the bags. "I brought supplies."

"Bishop gave me supplies."

"No offense, but I don't think one tiny can of tomato juice is gonna cover," she gestured at him with an open palm, "all of that."Shit, she thought, realizing that that sounded like a comment on his physique, and clarified, "The smell, I mean. The smell." She stammered over her own gaffe, then quickly asked, "Can I come in? I brought dinner."

He hesitated, but acquiesced after a pause, opening the door wider to let her in. She passed him at close proximity, her nose wrinkling as the skunk smell increased thanks to their closeness. She didn't comment on it, just asked where the kitchen was. He pointed, and she walked in that direction where she deposited the bags on the kitchen counter.

"What did you bring?"

She looked over her shoulder at him with a grin. "Just some things," she replied, then started to unpack the bags.

Tim stood to her left, just outside of the small, galley-style kitchen. "What sort of things?"

Lucy continued pulling out the contents while speaking. "So, I did some reading, and turns out tomato juice doesn't actually get the skunk smell out." She placed two bottles of peroxide, one box of baking soda, and a bottle of orange Ajax dish soap on the counter beside the stove. "Apparently, all tomato juice does is mask the smell. You stop smelling skunk because the smell of tomato overpowers it, but it doesn't get rid of it. Something called 'olafactory fatigue', I think?" She glanced to her left, then right. "Where are your measuring cups?" Tim pointed to a cabinet above her. "Ah. There we go." In one large glass measuring cup, she combined the peroxide, soap, and baking soda, then stirred it carefully with a fork and set it aside while she got the rest of the groceries out. A box of spaghetti, two cans of sauce, and a salad she'd assembled at the Whole Foods salad bar with all the fixings. "Your uniform will probably have to be thrown out," she picked up the measuring cup again, giving it another stir as she turned around to face Tim, "but a shower with this stuff, if I did it right, should get the rest of it off your skin." She placed the cup in his hands before looking up at him, and was embarrassed to realize he'd been watching her with an amused expression on his face.

"Lucy," he started, "this is really-"

"-Yeah, no, I know," she interrupted with a wave, then looked away shyly, "It's a bit much."

"No, it's sweet," he finished. "It's really sweet."

Secretly, she was touched by his words, but she tried to act cool about it. "Don't read too much into it, Tim," she replied blithely. "If I have to share a car with you, I refuse to let you stink. I assure you, my motives are entirely selfish." She pointed toward the cup. "So I guess you should go shower with stuff."

"I've already showered."

"Yeah… I'm gonna need you to try one more time. I'll get dinner started." Then, she added with a grin, "Hope your adventures with tomato juice haven't put you off spaghetti."

He glared at her. "You think you're real funny, don't you?"

"Actually, I think I'm hilarious."

He didn't disagree, just smirked and backed out of the kitchen, measuring cup of her mystery mix in hand. There was a few minutes of silence before Lucy could hear the sound of the shower being turned on. She turned back toward the oven and only then realized she hadn't asked where he kept pots, pans, and bowls, which meant that she'd have to do a little investigating.

Lucy located the pots soon enough and put two saucepans on the counter. In one, she put six cups of water and a little salt. In the smaller of the two, she dumped two jars of marinara. While waiting for the water to boil, she seasoned the sauce and got it to her liking before setting the mix to a low simmer and placing the lid over the pan. By then, the water had begun to boil, and she broke two handfuls of spaghetti in half before placing them in the pot and setting a timer for eleven minutes.

The water was still running, so either Tim was lingering in the shower, or the scrub she'd given him proved difficult to use. Half of her wanted to check on him, but she decided against it. If she were to barge into his bathroom and ask if he was okay… well, she wouldn't even entertain the notion. If he was having issues, she had to trust he'd figure them out.

Left on her own while she waited for dinner to finish, Lucy took the opportunity to look around. This was her first time in his house. She hadn't been invited as much as she barged in, but he also hadn't refused her entry, so she called it a success. She'd so far only caught a glimpse of it as he directed her from the front door to the kitchen. It was a cute little house he kept, if she judged it solely on its living room and kitchen. Clean, uncharacteristically warm, and dare she say cozy. The front door faced the street. She could see street lights coming on through the large bay window from between parted sheer curtains. From the driveway, she'd seen this window before. She'd never imagined on the other side would be the sweetest little window seat, a long narrow bench of solid white wood accented by olive green pillows. She tried not to read too much into the color of the pillows. Tim didn't know olive green was her favorite, and it was far more likely that Isabel had chosen the cushions, just like she'd picked the house. Still, Lucy ran a finger over them; whoever heard of corduroy pillows before, she thought, but they weren't the ugliest things she'd ever seen. Thanks to the large buttons in the center and thick white stitching, they were actually sort of precious in a retro way.

The rest of the living room was sunken. Except for a path about three feet wide that led from the front door to the kitchen, the space was accessed by a small flight of three steps and occupied by an espresso-colored sectional that faced the television. The TV was flanked by built-in bookshelves. She perused the contents, finding a collection of Blu-Rays that was mostly action movies, with the odd rom-com found here or there. A handful of Xbox games seemed similar to the movies. Where discs weren't stored, a few knick-knacks had been placed. A football trophy from high school. A medal in a shadowbox. Some pictures from Tim's time overseas. She paid special attention to those, hardly recognizing the stern boy in fatigues. He couldn't have been more than twenty in half of these photos, but she found glimpses of the person she knew now in the hard set of his mouth, the blue of his eyes. Her hand rose of its own accord to trace the lines of his face in his official portrait, but she refrained, deciding now was a good time to stop her snooping and stir the noodles before they stuck.

After she'd stirred the spaghetti and the sauce for good measure, she took a look at the dining room. It was to the left of the kitchen; probably not large enough for entertaining, but just enough space for a young family. A small, rectangular, walnut-colored table stood in the center of the room with seating for four. A large round mirror gave the illusion of the room being bigger, but otherwise the space was rather bare. Sparse and spartan, especially when compared to the cozy, lived-in den. It almost gave the impression that the house was half-finished. Lucy couldn't imagine Tim made use of the dining room very often on his own. Perhaps that was why not much had been done for it. If that was the case, she wondered what the other rooms might look like.

Her curiosity led her down the hallway to the left of the dining room, but even then, only barely. Just far enough to count out four doors. Two to the right, two to the left. By her guess, one of the rooms would be the master bedroom and probably had an ensuite bathroom. Again, this wing appeared undecorated, the exception being a large framed picture that caught her eye at once.

Tim was in the photo, but that wasn't what captured her attention. It was the presence of Isabel in the photograph that made her freeze. Out of all the other pictures she'd seen throughout the house, this was the only one that showed her. A shame, that, because the Isabel she saw in the photo was lovely and quite photogenic. Happy and healthy, her smile bright and true. Honey-blonde hair fell about her face in a cascade of delicate ringlets, eyes not so scared and wide as Lucy so often saw them, but doll-like and hopeful as she looked back at her husband.

Tim wore his hair longer in the picture than he kept it now. Although it would've been taken several years after his Army photos, he looked younger on his wedding day than he had in those. Like Isabel, he was smiling as he held her right hand in his left. The picture had been taken in the middle of dancing. His arm was up, her fingers in his grasp, like he'd been in the middle of turning her when the moment was captured. Perhaps he hadn't worn a jacket on his wedding day; perhaps he'd discarded it while dancing. Either way, the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up, revealing his forearms. On his left wrist, Lucy could see his timer clearly.

Her stomach lurched slightly at the sight. She'd known that he'd had the timer long before they met, and shortly after meeting him discovered that he'd gotten married in spite of his countdown, but there was something about seeing it so plainly in a photo from his wedding day… frankly, it made her feel a little ill. It threw into sharp relief just how differently they regarded timers before they met. Had he ever said why he'd gotten one? She tried to remember, but couldn't. It was significant enough that, if he'd said anything, she was certain she'd have kept it in mind. No, she recalled, the most she'd gotten from him was an admission that something had happened that he couldn't explain. No reason why, not even an attempt at explaining; just that, followed by him confiding he'd been more open to the idea of soulmates before he met the woman who became his wife. He was so guarded in the beginning that she was happy for any shred of personal history that he deigned to share, placated by having the truth, even if it came gradually. Did she feel that way now? Was that still enough?

No, Lucy realized. No, it wasn't enough, and the thought was discomfiting. Soulmate or not, she had a boyfriend now. She should have been desperate to wantlessfrom Tim, not more. Yet, there she was. Wanting. Eager to help the second he might need it. Cooking dinner in his kitchen, walking through the house his wife had chosen, and staring at their pictures like some voyeuristic grief vulture. Meanwhile, her boyfriend was across the city, and their last conversation had ended with an argument. She'd canceled on him to give unasked-for assistance to her soulmate. It was not the first time she'd done that; at this rate, it probably wouldn't be the last, and he still didn't know that her training officer and soulmate were one and the same. Her guilt over the fib joined with her discomfort, and with a worry whose source she had not yet pinpointed. She suddenly felt gross and the queasiness increased with a fury.

The oven timer beeped then, effectively breaking Lucy out of her thoughts with a start. Although she could push the memories and questions aside for now, the uneasy sensations remained; she remembered enough from her psych courses to discern that the feeling was probably psychosomatic and not actual illness. Her stomach would ache until whatever nagged her conscience was resolved, but she managed to ignore it as she hurried back to the kitchen. It was foolish of her to lose track of time with water boiling, she admonished herself with every step. Luckily, none had boiled over and the noodles hadn't stuck together. She drained the water, saving just enough to help the sauce bind when she combined them into one pot. It took a couple guesses, but she found clean plates, tupperware, and utensils and made him a plate before putting the leftover pasta and salad in separate containers for future dinners.

Lucy was at the sink washing the dishes she'd used to cook when Tim returned. Her concoction had worked; the skunk smell was completely gone. She caught the scent of his soap as he joined her, the fragrance subtle but pleasant. After his shower, he'd changed into a clean black t shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. It was the most casual she'd even seen him, and without thinking, her mind compared the image from his wedding against the man who stood beside her. She knew which one she preferred. There was no denying he cleaned up well, but if she had to choose, she liked this look on him best.

"You cooked. I can wash up," he said, trying and failing to coax her away from the sink.

Lucy shrugged him off. "It's okay. I'm almost done."

He tried one more time, but she would not be moved. Rather than continue trying to convince her, he nodded towards the single plate of food on the counter. "Did you eat already?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

She pretended to pay particular attention to a stubborn spot of marinara in the sauce pan. "No. Not feeling too great tonight." Lucy could feel the second he began to analyze her reply, studying her expression, posture, and general demeanor."I saw the picture," she whispered after she'd finished the dishes and washed her hands.

"What picture?" he asked as he handed her a towel.

Well, all of them, really, but, "From your wedding," was her reply.

He didn't seem angry at her snooping, which had been her primary concern. He just nodded. "If I'd known you were coming over, I would've taken it down."

"Why?"

"Believe it or not, Lucy, I don't love hurting your feelings. Well," he amended, "off the job, of course."

She tried to appreciate his weak attempt at injecting humor, but didn't laugh. Instead, she asked, "Did you know you can see your timer in it?"

His smile faded. "Lucy-"

"You know, you never told me why you got one."

"Yes, I have."

Her mouth lifted in a sad smile. "No, you haven't. I'd remember it if you had. I know just about everything else, but not that."

"You really want to know?"

She nodded.

"Okay," he said, sighing before he spoke again. "It was after I joined up. I was only eighteen. Didn't have many friends. No family either. Not really. Mom died when I was a kid, and my father… let's just say I didn't have anyone. My recruiting officer recommended I get a timer. He said having something to look forward to would help during deployments. Don't think he expected the damn thing to stay blank until a month before I got discharged. I know I sure didn't," he chuckled, but again, she did not laugh.

"Wow," she breathed.

"What?"

"Nothing." Lucy took a step back, putting distance between them as she tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. Her gaze was on the floor as she absorbed his story, trying to connect it to what he'd told her months ago.All the pieces were in place; the picture was complete, and the difference in their histories surrounding their timers was as stark as day and night. "It's not every day you find out you were a coping mechanism."

He looked pained by her reply. "You make it sound like I used you."

"Didn't you? You got it to get you through deployments, and it served its purpose, right?"

Tim sighed, but didn't deny it. Instead, he said to her, "Wait right here." Then he stalked off towards his bedroom without another word and was absent for a few minutes. When he returned, he was holding a 4x6 inch piece of paper; a picture that he placed it into Lucy's hands.

She looked at it closely, recognizing it at once as being from Tim's time in the military. Not a hard deduction to make, thanks to the presence of fatigues on just about everyone in the photo, but she could also tell due to his age in it. He would have been younger here. Not so young as his uniformed portrait, but younger than his wedding photo. Tim was the focal point of the photograph, surrounded by a group of six or seven other service members. It was a candid, a moment captured when the men were in the middle of some sort of celebration. The focus of the excitement appeared connected to Tim, as quite a few of the men in the picture could be seen patting his back or shoulders. He was the only one seated on what looked to be his bunk, and he was grinning widely. Not smirking, not smiling. Grinning with obvious joy, not at the camera, but at his buddies. That smile only appeared in one other picture in the whole house; his wedding photo.

"It's from my last deployment," he said after she'd looked it over for a good, long while. "We didn't get much downtime. Had to take it in shifts. I was in my bunk at the end of the day. I think I was looking at a magazine or something… I can't remember exactly. All I know is I reached up to scratch my head and as I brought my hand down, I noticed that my blank timer had numbers on it."

Lucy couldn't help but smile hearing the story. "What did you do when you saw it?"

He laughed, going a little pink in embarrassment as he replied, "I yelled 'holy fucking shit' and just about gave everyone in my tent a heart attack." She laughed, too, and he continued a moment later. "They were all really happy that I was finally counting down. I got a lot of grief for having a blank timer, but they all went out of their damn minds when the numbers finally showed up."

"And that's what this picture is?" she asked, realizing. "This is the night your timer started counting down."

He nodded and tapped the edge of the paper with one finger. "That is the moment," he paused to take a deep, fortifying breath," that I knew you were coming. You weren't this faceless 'maybe' anymore. You were somewhere out there. A real, living person with a name and a past and a future, and you were linked to me, and me to you. It made me feel less alone.

"I know I told you I didn't believe in soulmates," he continued, hearkening back to their first ever conversation. God, it felt like a lifetime ago. "I didn't, until I met you. But I look at my timer now," Tim looked at his wrist, the acrylic strip now showing only zeroes, "and I realize that a part of you has been there for me longer than anyone else, long before I ever even knew you. If that's not a soulmate, what is?"

Lucy had nothing to say to that; not to his story, nor to his statement about soulmates. He had not asked for a reply from her, and she feared anything she said would spoil the sweet moment that had settled over them. So, she continued to gaze at the picture, going over every detail of Tim's jubilant expression and committing as many details as she could to memory.

Eventually, he spoke again.

"Turn it over," he said.

She did as he requested. On the back, someone had written in black ink.

Tim Bradford: Proof every trash can has its lid.

She couldn't help but laugh at that. "Wow. Nice friends you have." Lucy looked at him, meeting his eyes. "Am I the trash can in this scenario, or are you?" He chuckled, and she turned it back to the picture. "It's okay. I won't be able to see that part once I frame this."

"Uh, excuse you? You're not keeping that picture." He reached for it, but she leaned away from his hands.

"Uh, excuseyou?" she retorted. "I'm absolutely keeping this. It's amazing." Lucy held it behind her back with one hand, and pushed Tim away with the other, her palm pressing against his chest.

"Pfft. I know it's amazing. Why else would I want to keep it?"

He continued to wrestle her for the photo, darting and maneuvering, but never quite managing to get it back. Soon, Lucy was prompted to joke, "How dare you! This is no way to treat your trash can!"

He got it free from behind her back just a moment later and held it aloft like a trophy.

"No fair," she groused and tried twice to jump for it, but he was too damn tall. Fully extended, his arm cleared her by two feet.

"Should I get you a step-stool?" he teased.

When she saw how hopping amused him (he all but laughed in her face), she changed her tactic and employed a trick she'd come up with in high school after one too many boys in choir class thought stealing her folder and holding it up high counted as flirting. It sort of did to a sophomore, and apparently to Tim Bradford as well. Not only was her petite height a disadvantage, but her opponent was a highly trained officer, well-versed in fighting and defending. He would be hard to surprise, so she'd have to move fast.

She pretended to hop three more times to throw him off his rhythm. Then, Lucy wrapped her arms around his bicep, interlaced her fingers, and made her body go slack.

Her trick worked a littletoowell, resulting in not just bringing Tim's arm down to her level, but almost making them both go tumbling onto the floor. Fortunately, he caught her before that happened. Caught her, and kept her there long after she'd gotten her legs beneath her again. For the moment, the picture was forgotten.

It was so typical, Lucy thought to herself. So predictable, and so verythemthat their first embrace was accidental. Accidental, but she had to concede it was not unpleasant to be standing in the circle of his arms. He was muscular and strong, but not bulky. He kept in shape less for looks than function. Okay, she thought with a sly glance at his well-formed shoulders, maybe it was a little for looks. They'd been falling in opposite directions, but in the moments following, Tim had moved towards Lucy. Now there was very little space between them. They were close enough that his chest held firm against hers, causing the swell of her breasts to press against her blouse. Close enough that she could see every single one of his eyelashes and the growing stubble of his five o'clock shadow. Close enough to touch or more, she thought, in any other life but this.

But this was not any other life. There was no alternate timeline where he waited for her. There was no version of their past where Tim had not chosen to marry Isabel, despite the promise of Lucy on his arm. In the here and now, his wedding picture was on the wall, and her boyfriend was upset with her.

She pulled away first.

"I should go," she said, and that was enough to shake them both free of the spell. "Cam's mad at me. I need to apologize." She smartly avoided his gaze and brushed past him with as little contact as possible. "You'll be okay, right? Of course you will. You're you." She was rambling now, but it wasn't something she could stop once she got going. "I'll see you tomorrow," she finished, and did not wait for a reply before seeing herself out of the house.

Only in the safe confines of her car did Lucy allow herself a single exclamation of disbelief, spoken with her forehead against the steering wheel as she desperately tried to calm her galloping heart. Into the dead air, she whispered words stolen from Tim himself.

"Holy fucking shit."

Chapter 16: Now or Not At All

Notes:

"I didn't want us to burn out, I
Didn't come here to hurt you, now I can't stop."
- "Already Gone", Kelly Clarkson
~

Chapter Text

Holy fucking shit.

Holy. .

It's okay. It's fine. It's not a big deal, but… holy fucking shit.

The words played on repeat in Lucy's mind as Tim's house disappeared in her rearview mirror. She drove away carefully, but without aim, less because she had a destination in mind than because she wanted -and needed- to put distance between them. Only when she crossed Wilshire Boulevard did she feel like she had enough space to breathe. To assess. With her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, she took mental stock of the last few minutes of her visit. He'd told her the story of how he'd gotten his timer. There was a split-second where she almost felt hurt by the truth behind why he'd gotten one without believing in soulmates, but she was glad she refrained from voicing it. Hearing about the night the numbers showed for him more than made up for the slight wounding to her ego. She would have never guessed that he'd been happy when the countdown started. Excited, even, and then he'd looked down at his timer as he revealed that he'd realized she'd always been with him, in some form or fashion, ever since the countdown began. She didn't think she'd ever forget the unguarded tenderness in his voice and demeanor as he whispered, "If that's not a soulmate, what is?" Holding her was accidental. It was only for a moment, but that moment was enough. Enough to leave her overwhelmed after the slightest touch had made every nerve-ending in her body hum. Enough to spark her imagination, and even now her mind betrayed her, errantly imagining more scenarios where he might embrace her again without much consideration for their current reality.

To the best of her ability, Lucy interrupted that train of thought. He was married; she had a boyfriend. He was her training officer; she was his rookie. She replaced the loop of expletives with those thoughts, repeating them to herself mantra-like. She pictured Cam, calling to mind his face after some trying, and focused on all the things that she liked about him. There was no denying they got along well, and he was kind, thoughtful, and attractive. Courteous, comfortable, maybe a little safe, but she rationalized that being safe was not an undesirable quality; she was a police officer, after all. If it was thrills she was after, her job provided plenty. The only crack in the foundation of their relationship was her own deception.

The time spent at Tim's house had shaken her, but Lucy was determined more than ever to course-correct. No longer aimless, she drove towards Cam's apartment. He was still at the movies when she arrived, and she had no clue when he'd return. To pass the time (as well as to plan how she'd broach the subject at long last), she called Nolan.

"Hey, it's Lucy," she said when he answered. "Do you have a moment to help me talk through a problem?" He did. With a deep breath, she began to go over the events of the evening. "So, something happened. I was supposed to meet Cam tonight. Go see a movie with him and a few of his friends, but I didn't. I went to Tim's. I know, I know. What the hell am I thinking, right?" She pressed one hand to her forehead. "I guess I wanted to help him. I felt really bad after the day he had, so I brought him some things to help with the skunk smell and then I made him dinner while he showered. Is that too much? I mean, probably. Whatever. That's not the point.

"Anyway, he finally told me why he got his timer. Yes, I said 'finally'. I don't know how I let him go this long without saying. I'm glad he told me. I don'tlovethe fact that he got it because some recruiter suggested it, but then he told me about the night his timer started counting down, andoh my God, Nolan. It was kind of romantic. Or, at least I think it was. My view of romance is probably a little messed up since the only boyfriend I've had that's eventriedto be romantic is Cam.

"Damn it. Cam." She leaned against the steering wheel, her cheek pressing against the well-worn leather as she groaned. "I still haven't told him, but I'm going to. I'm outside his apartment right now because I know I have to. If I want a future with him, I can't keep this lie inside, right? I guess it wouldn't matter if I didn't want a future with him, but I do. At least, I think I do. Don't I?" At the moment, she couldn't tell for certain, unable to decipher whether her wishes for the future were genuine or motivated by what she felt sheoughtto do. "I should want that, shouldn't I? I mean, you've met him. He's great. Seriously, so great. Amazing. Handsome. Smart… okay, don't say it. I know I just described most dogs and half the pantheon of Disney princes." Another groan. "This would be easier if I loved him. Not that I don't, I just… I don'tyet." She swallowed hard before continuing, something like hysteria bubbling inside her. "But, that's normal, right? It's only been a few months. And I'm not saying I won't ever… but what if don't? What if I never…" She paused, waiting only a second for Nolan to speak before resolving on her own. "Right. No, no you're right." The glare of headlights to her left caught Lucy's eye. She recognized Cam's Jeep as it pulled into the parking lot. "Okay. I'm going to do it. I'm going to talk to him. He's always so understanding, so hopefully… well, what's the worst that could happen?" Then she pasted a smile on her face, feigning a confidence she didn't feel as she said, "Thanks, Nolan. Good talk."

"I literally did not say anything," she heard him reply as she ended the call.

Cam spotted her immediately. She'd figured he would. He approached her car, opened the door for her, and helped her out before inviting her into his apartment. The entire way up the stairs, he kept his hand on the small of her back. So what that his touch did not make her body sing with sensations? It was familiar and soothing, and she could do worse than that, couldn't she? An apology for their earlier argument fell from his lips the second the door closed behind them, followed quickly by a kiss that he soon tried to deepen. Lucy reciprocated his affection, but only for a moment, and before long placed her hands on his chest as she leaned away to better look into his eyes.

"Cam," she began gently, "We need to talk."

A tight smile crossed his mouth at her words. Beneath her palms, his heart thudded an anxious rhythm. "That's never a good sign."

"It's not what you think," she said, hoping her reassurance would soften the blows that followed, "but I haven't been as honest with you as I should have been."

"What's going on?"

She told him everything. Tim, her married soulmate, was her training officer. Yes, she said when he asked, the same training officer she occasionally helped after-hours, sometimes late into the night. She spared him most details (including and especially the ones from that evening), choosing instead to fill the gaps with profuse, earnest apologies. She hadn't meant to hurt him. It hadn't been her aim to lie for so long. The omission on her part wasn't mean-spirited; she had only wanted to protect their new relationship, and feared that knowing how closely she worked with her soulmate would upend that in some way, shape, or form.

The entire confession took less than two minutes. Throughout, Cam tried to be gracious. She saw him struggle to remain in control, to keep his tears back, but there was no hiding them once they welled and caught on the edges of his long, black eyelashes.

"I'm sorry," she said again, moved to remorse by his tears. "I was terrified of ruining things."

He didn't raise his voice once she'd said her piece, but his tone lacked all its usual warmth when he did finally get a chance to speak. He did not break up with her outright, which had, during the course of confessing, become her fear. Instead, Cam asked for time and space to process. He needed to think about what this might mean for their relationship, and wanted her to give him a while to think before reaching out again. She tried to argue against it, but he was adamant. She had no choice but to agree.

Lucy excused herself soon after. He did not say goodbye. It wasn't a breakup, per se, but nonetheless left little ability for her to hope for the best.

The days that followed were tough for Lucy. Cam had not specified how long "a while" was, and soon three weeks passed without sight nor sound from him. After the first week, she had texted him to see if he was okay; he read the message, but did not reply. He continued to follow her on Instagram, but she noticed an unusual lack of activity from his account. Lucy pressured Jackson to do a little recon on her behalf, but all he would say was Cam needed more time, and reminded her to leave him alone.

Her friends were somewhat supportive, but not totally on her side. Jackson was upset that she'd made such a mess of things. He wasn't giving her the silent treatment, but she could tell he held a bit of a grudge against her. Nolan was more sympathetic, but not above a little passive gloating in the way that only a dad knew how when he learned about their fight and subsequent estrangement. Lucy did not try to improve her standing in the eyes of either man. They had warned her the lie was costly, and she was paying the price now. She missed Cam. Even if she did not love him (yet, she chided herself,I always forget to add the yet) she enjoyed his company. Its absence caused an ache she could not easily fill.

Strangely, as they drifted apart, Lucy and Tim grew closer, despite the latter not knowing all that had transpired with her and Cam. No, they weren't palling around or going out for drinks, but conversation came easier for them. Neither brought up the night at his house, and especially not their awkward embrace in his kitchen, but she was sure that had been the catalyst for this change and there was plenty of other excitement around the station to discuss. The news about Angela and her soulmate, a handsome attorney named Wesley, became a particular point of interest for them.

"Lopez and a public defender," Tim had said the morning Lucy first broached the subject. "I can't think of anyone worse to match with."

She smirked at him pointedly. "Hmmm, I don't know about that. I can think of a few things."

He shot her a glare, but there was a smile to it. "I amnotworse than some lawyer."

It was a pleasant turn of events, and Lucy had had so few of those lately that she clung to it like a lifeline. As if her boyfriend troubles were not enough, Los Angeles experienced a false spring in the last week of January, with the temperature shooting up into the 80s out of nowhere. Naturally, that was the day Lucy's air conditioning decided to go on a permanent strike. She knew she'd have to get that fixed sooner rather than later. AC was a necessity in California, and the false spring was a warning that hotter weather was on its way.

Her fortunes began to take a turn for the better when news came of the Vice President's visit to Los Angeles. To put it nicely, Lucy didn't care for the guy, but being called in on her day off and making time and a half pay would cover her air conditioning's repair with a little to spare. It was the first day in almost a month that she came into work feeling cheerful.

Her good mood was quickly dashed by a comment from Tim as they stood in the kit line.

"Air conditioning makes you soft," he said, after she'd revealed her plans for her overtime pay. "You gotta get comfortable with being uncomfortable. That's the job."

She quickly retorted, "Believe me, sir. I know something about being uncomfortable on the job." Her response wasn't loud or even that sarcastic, but Jackson and Angela were standing close enough that they both "ooohed" like kids on a playground upon hearing her response. Tim shot a "shut up" in their direction and sneered at Lucy, but otherwise said nothing else on the subject, not even when they got on the road.

The teams were spread out across the city to assure the safety of "veep". Jackson and Angela received an assignment that took them to an apartment building, and Nolan and Talia were held back for a special assignment. Lucy, Tim, and a small team were sent to oversee the packing up of homeless communities. They started with Vine, cordoning off the section between Melrose and Franklin. Tim was the senior officer on scene, so he gave the orders. Lucy, being the rookie, dealt with the people directly.

She had just finished rousing a man sleeping on the sidewalk when a fight broke out between two women. Lucy hadn't heard what caused the argument, but fists were flying, and she moved quickly to stop them. Soon, she was knocked back, but managed to return to her feet after overpowering the woman who had dragged her down. Just as she finished handcuffing her, Tim spoke, his voice low and serious.

"Lucy."

It was her name on his lips that made her freeze. He rarely called her by her first name on shift. Even in those rare cases, he never once did so in front of other officers, acknowledging her only as Chen or Boot. With one hand still holding the homeless woman in place, she looked at Tim. His eyes were wide, stare honed on her midsection as he ordered in that same somber way, "Don't move."

She looked down.

There was a split-second where she didn't see it. Then, she was sure she was imagining it. She couldn't feel it, so how could it be real? But it was. Her vision swam before her eyes at the sight of a needle protruding from her stomach. It was dirty, the chamber brown and dingy. The needle had clearly been used before, and it had lodged into her abdomen sometime during the scuffle.

"Lucy. Lucy?"

Tim had said her name again. Or was he still saying it? Time seemed to telescope. His voice sounded distant, like it came from far above her.

"I didn't see it," she whispered. It sounded like an apology.

"It's okay," he replied, "but I'm going to need to pull the needle out. Stay still." He didn't wait for her acknowledgment before donning gloves and dropping to his knees. He looked closely at the entrance point before gently grasping the needle and pulling. It slid easily out of her skin; she perceived a pinch of discomfort as it was drawn out. Strange that she couldn't feel it go in, but felt pain as it left. Lucy watched as he examined the needle's tip, still crouched on the ground. It took her a second to realize he was looking for signs that it had broken skin, and his face fell when he noticed a bead of blood on the edge. "Shit," he muttered and looked up at her, his eyes briefly appeared glassy before he masked it, willing away all semblance of emotion. His concern from just moments before had evaporated, pushed away solely by effort. When he spoke next, he was all cop, cold and professional. "What's the procedure when an officer is exposed on duty?"

She didn't remember at first.

"Focus," he said when her silence stretched on long enough to worry him. "What do we need to do now?"

Another second or two passed while she tried to recall protocol. "Collect the evidence," she soon recited, her voice mechanical. "Bring the officer and item to the nearest hospital to test for infections and…" she hesitated over the next word, "diseases… that may have been transmitted."

"And the nearest hospital is?"

"Shaw Memorial."

Tim nodded. He placed the needle into a small, rectangular storage container, discarded the gloves, then turned and barked an order at another officer on the scene. She didn't hear what order had been issued, but it must have been a hand-off. "Let's go," he said after, and guided her towards the patrol car, one hand on her shoulder the entire way.

Upon arriving at the ER, Lucy checked in at the front desk. At first, the nurse running reception tried to give her a clipboard and have her take a seat with other patients, but Tim intervened. Whether the protocol he cited was authentic or not, his stern persuasion worked, and she was seen to a room immediately. After making sure she was settled, Tim excused himself to call the sergeant.

"Gonna let the brass know about our whereabouts," he said as he turned to go.

"Will that take us off the clock?" she asked.

"Well, we aren't working, so…"

"Yeah. Yeah, no. You're right." Lucy nodded her understanding, then sat on the edge of the bed. So much for her air conditioning.

A moment passed where Tim lingered, drumming his thumb on the doorknob. Eventually, he said, "I'll be right back," and left.

A minute after he'd stepped away, the doctor entered. At her request, Lucy removed her uniform top, leaving only her white t-shirt on, which was easily lifted to examine the puncture wound. The doctor's expression did not give away much, but she informed Lucy she would be ordering an array of tests to ascertain what she may have been exposed to.

Tim returned just as the phlebotomist entered the room for blood draws. He was by her side the entire time, and that was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because she was terrified, and having him to keep her company brought her a great deal of comfort. A curse, because as the nurse inserted the needle to draw the first of four vials, she could feel anxiety rolling off him in waves.

After the phlebotomist carted the labeled vials off for testing, Lucy sat up. She cast a cautious glance Tim's way. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"You're asking me?"

"I guess I am."

"Not the way I thought the day would go," he replied. He followed it with, "How are you feeling?"

Not great, but she tried to fake it. "Gotta get comfortable with being uncomfortable, right?"

He sighed. "You don't have to do that with me."

"Do what?"

"Pretend."

Her eyes welled with tears in an instant. "I'm really scared," she admitted, and those three words opened the floodgate. The tears ran down her cheeks before she could stop them. She lowered her head as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, planting her feet firmly on the floor as she leaned forward into her hands.

She heard rather than saw him close the gap between them. A moment later, she felt the warmth from his skin as his hands came to rest on her shoulders, an uncharacteristic but appreciated attempt to console her.

"It's going to be okay, Lucy," he whispered.

She looked up at him through watery lashes. "What if it isn't?"

"If it isn't, then…" he sighed, but his hands stayed on her shoulders as he decided, "if it isn't, we'll deal with it. No matter what. Okay?"

Lucy nodded. "Okay."

They stayed like that for only a moment or two longer. Soon, Tim encouraged her to stand and dress so they could get back to work.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, "but after I called Sergeant Grey, I reached out to a buddy of mine. He's done work on my truck before. Said he can take care of your AC for cheap. Maybe the lost OT won't mean you can't get it fixed."

Lucy was somewhat shocked by the gesture, a reaction she knew showed on her face. "You did that for me?"

"You seem surprised."

At that, she smirked. "Not surprised, just… yeah, okay. Surprised works."

Tim's plan to rejoin the team was made in good faith, but their efforts were thwarted when, after Lucy had washed her face, she came across a mourning woman in the bathroom. She thought nothing of it at first until she caught a glimpse of a bottle of bleach in the stall. For the moment, fears over her own health faded into the background as she hurried down the hall after the woman, catching her just as she held a needle to a man's neck. It was her brother, the woman said. He was in a coma, and she was intent on killing him rather than allow machines to keep him alive artificially.

She pointed her taser in the woman's direction and radioed Tim for help. He was there in seconds. Seeing Lucy's taser and the needle being held to the man's vein, Tim drew his gun before shouting out the door to the nearby nurses, warning them to prepare for a gunshot victim. Lucy was determined to avoid that outcome, and so did her best to talk the woman down. Her hand was forced when the needle penetrated the man's skin, and she fired her taser. The woman went down, landing on the tile in convulsions, and nurses came in to tend to her.

It was Lucy who withdrew the needle from the side of the patient's neck. A tiny drop of blood pooled on the point, but the plunger had not been depressed, a fact she confirmed to Tim when he asked.

He smiled slyly in her direction as he returned his gun to its holster. "I can't leave you alone for a minute."

The sister came to a few minutes later. Tim was the one to place her under arrest for attempted murder. It pained Lucy to see her in cuffs, but they had no choice; the law was the law. Lucy followed Tim and the woman out to the patrol car, and asked, "Should I come with?" after he'd placed the woman in the back.

"No, I'll get her processed. You stay here and wait for your results," he replied. "Call me if you need me, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'm serious," he emphasized, his gaze narrowing at her as he spoke. "I don't want to hear from West or, God forbid,Nolanthat you're in the ICU or something."

She bit back a smile at his thinly-veiled worrying. "If I need anyone, you'll be the first one I call," she promised, and he was satisfied.

It was another hour before her results came in. During that time, Jackson arrived, having accompanied a gunshot victim to the ER. Although they'd spent very little time together since Cam had asked for space, he still offered to wait with her. Lucy was glad for his presence, but after several minutes of anxiety-riddled silence, had to ask, "Are you angry with me?"

He shook his head. "Not anymore."

That was a relief, but only partially. "Is Cam?"

A pause followed where Jackson looked at her, his expression both understanding and sad. "He's still hurt. You kind of broke his heart."

She knew that, but hearing it said aloud affected her more than she thought it would. "I know," Lucy whispered. "I didn't mean to." Then, she asked, "Do you think he'll forgive me?"

Unlike before, Jackson didn't hesitate to answer.

"I don't know, Lucy," he replied, his voice soft. "I really don't know."

Lucy would never have guessed the turn the day would take. She certainly didn't anticipate ending up here, in a hospital bed, wearing a shapeless, itchy white-and-blue polka dot gown. Her results had returned, with the initial test showing no signs of hepatitis or HIV. Her bloodwork had been a little outside of normal parameters, indicating a staph infection at the point of entry. At the doctor's suggestion, she would be kept overnight to receive intravenous antibiotics. The wound would be closely monitored for signs of infection and spread. Pending a clean blood test the next day, the doctor hoped to discharge her the following afternoon.

Tim returned in plainclothes just as a nurse arrived to start her on an IV.

"What happened," he asked as he entered the room, his brow furrowed with concern. "You said you'd call me."

"Yeah, if I needed you," she replied, recalling their last conversation verbatim. "Unless you can insert an IV, I think this is outside your area of expertise," she said as she gestured to the needle on its way into the vein on top of her left hand. "It's just a staph infection. I should be okay."

"Should be?"

"I have to stay the night for observation."

Tim turned to the nurse and asked, "Is that standard?"

The nurse nodded. "It is for dirty needles," she replied, "but she should only need to stay until sometime tomorrow."

He waited until after the nurse had finished and left the room before dragging a chair to her bedside and sitting beside her.

"I hate hospitals," Tim said after a moment.

"I think everyone hates hospitals," Lucy replied, "but it does feel like we've seen a lot of them lately." Between him and then Isabel getting shot, and now this, she'd had enough of hospitals to last her a year or more.

"How are you feeling?"

She looked at the catheter in her hand and was tempted to pick at the tape that held it in place. "Well, I think I'm over needles for the day," she said drily, "but my bloodwork came back clear of HIV and hepatitis, so all in all, I'm relieved."

"Yeah. That's," he breathed out, "that's good."

She looked at him with a soft smile. "I know you were worried."

He didn't deny it. "Of course I was worried."

"Yeah, but you didn't act it."

"So?"

"So? You don't have to do that with me." She parroted his own words to him with a chuckle. "You know, pretend? Lie?"

He looked away. "It wouldn't have done you any good for both of us to be scared. Someone had to stay calm."

"And that someone is you?"

At her question, his lips lifted in the corners; a tired half-smile. "Usually."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. Figuring it was either the doctor or another nurse, Lucy answered by calling, "Come in."

It was not a nurse, nor was it a doctor. To her astonishment, Cam opened the door.

She was unprepared for the shock of seeing him after a month of no contact and shot upright in the bed as she whispered, "Hey."

He smiled at her, but it wasn't full. Rather, it was guarded, and hesitant, and the distance time had formed between them remained intact even as he greeted her with a gentle, "Hey, babe."

Tim was on his feet within seconds of Cam entering the room, and glanced between the couple, looking first at Lucy, then at her boyfriend. She was powerless to stop the exchange that came next. He extended one hand toward Cam.

"You must be Lucy's boyfriend. I'm Tim, her TO." He did not sound or seem particularly impressed by the other man, but she figured that was probably just him being protective. After all, this was the same guy who'd wanted to run a background check on him before their second date.

Cam cast a knowing look at Lucy before taking Tim's hand. "Cam Wellings. I've heard a lot about you, Tim." She could tell by the edge in his voice that the comment was aimed at her. The dig landed, and Lucy winced.

"That's weird," Tim replied with discernible snark. "Lucy's normally so tight-lipped. I've heard almost nothing about you."

She was moved to intervene before a squabble could occur. "Bradford," she interjected, and if his slight side-eye as he looked her way was any indication, he didn't take kindly to her choosing to call him by his last name at that moment. "I'm starving. Do you mind going to that diner and grabbing me a veggie burger? Extra pickles?"

"The one on Melrose?"

"Ew, really? No. The other one. The good one."

He rolled his eyes. "You're going to make me drive thirty minutes for a veggie burger?" She only needed pout a little for him to acquiesce. "Fine." He looked at Cam, acknowledging him once more before leaving. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Yeah. You, too." Cam waited to turn to Lucy again until Tim left, availing himself to the now vacant chair at her bedside. "So… that's Tim."

She nodded slowly. "That's him."

"I thought he'd be older."

She could understand why he'd think that; all descriptions of her TO came off as cranky and cantankerous, more in-line with a late middle-aged man than one in his thirties. "He's got some old man qualities, I guess."

Cam did not laugh at her joke. Instead, he asked, "You didn't think to call me?"

She hadn't been expecting such a question, so her reply came out mumbled and uncertain. "You said you wanted space."

"And you think that 'needing space' equals me not wanting to know you're in the hospital?" he huffed. "Who called Tim?"

"He was there when it happened."

The revelation appeared to pain him. "Of course he was. And I'm guessing he's been here the whole time."

"Not all of it," she corrected, but did not offer further explanation beyond that. The last thing she wanted was to cause him more grief by revealing details. He did not need to know that Tim had stayed by her side while her blood was taken. He did not need to know that he'd comforted her when she admitted to being scared. Such revelations would most likely only hurt him, and she wanted to avoid that if she could.

It was evident he had more to say, plain by the way his shifted in his seat and leaned forward to take her hand. He gently ran one finger over the tape holding the IV in place.

"I guess Jackson called you, didn't he?"

"He figured I'd want to know," he admitted. "I think he thought you'd want to see me." His face hardened as he said, "He probably didn't realize you were already being taken care of by another man." He tried to let go of her hand then, but her grasp tightened, holding him in place. "I should probably go," he continued.

"Stay," she pleaded.

"Lucy, I can't. I…" he struggled for words. "I don't want to have this conversation this way."

"What conversation?" He still didn't say, so she asked again more emphatically, "Cam? What conversation?"

He hesitantly met her gaze. "I spent the last few weeks trying to forgive you, and I think I have." She was relieved and prematurely reached for him, but he stopped her. "I'm not finished. I forgive you for lying to me, but I can't be with you unless you can make me a promise."

Anxious to make amends, she asked, "What is it?"

"Can you promise that you won't leave me for him?"

Her mouth fell agape, speechless. He couldn't be serious, and yet she knew with a look that he was, She would never have thought him capable of asking for such a thing, but he'd made the the audacious request in earnest and expected an answer. "Cam…"

"Can you?"

"Why?" she wondered. "What would promising that do?"

He was undeterred by her question. "I don't have a soulmate, Lucy. You knew that at the start. I don't have a soulmate and I'll never be yours, but that doesn't mean this is a fling to me, okay? I don't know the future either, but I think I could have one with you. Hell, even after everything, Iwantto have one with you. I think we're great together. Don't you?"

"Yes, but-"

"No, Lucy. No buts." He raked one hand over his face and muttered, "I can't believe I'm going to ask this." Then, after he took a deep breath, Cam asked, "Do you love me?"

"What?"

"Please, just answer. It's embarrassing enough to have to ask."

The simple truth was no. She was attracted to him. She enjoyed his company, and she cared about him, but none of those things had yet evolved into love. It broke her heart to disappoint him.

"I don't know," was her response. It was a measured answer, a hedged one; far better than an outright "no", and it left her the room to add, "I could one day."

The question that followed knocked the breath from her lungs. "Do you love Tim?"

She did not respond but hid the answer in her heart, an echo of what she'd said to him.

I don't know. I could one day.

"Cam," she whispered, "I can't make that kind of promise. Not to you, not to anyone. Not yet." Her eyes began to water, and although she tried to blink away tears, a few still coursed down her face. "If you can just give me more time-"

He cut her off with a shake of his head.

"I can't do that, Lucy. I won't. I'm not going to wait for years hoping I'm the one you choose, and I refuse to be your consolation prize. I deserve better than that. So, I'm sorry but it's this. It's now or not at all. It's me…" he hesitated, then said with finality, "or it's him."

Him.

It was less a conscious choice than an impulse; an instinct. Lucy felt no alarm at how quickly she came to her decision. How could she have been so foolish as to think it wouldn't come to this? How naive, and how ashamed she felt now. She'd been kidding herself by pretending any other outcome was possible.

No one had a say in when a timer went off. No one got to pick their soulmates. She'd said as much to Tim shortly after they met, but at the present moment, she had decided. Purposely and intentionally, knowing all the baggage that came with it, she chose Tim. Perhaps she always would. Maybe one day, she would pick differently, but here and now, there was no other choice.

She cared too much for Cam to say any of this aloud. Total transparency would only add insult to injury, and she had already hurt him so much. Instead, Lucy whispered, "I'm sorry, Cam," knowing he would take it as confirmation; both of her pick, and of the end of their relationship.

A tear slid down his cheek as he rose to his feet, nodding that he understood. He would not try to convince her otherwise, and for that she was glad. "I'm sorry, too." He pressed one last kiss to her knuckles, his lips warm against her skin. The gesture caused new tears to cloud her vision. He did not say another word. She watched him leave through a blurry gaze and did not know whether he looked back. Lucy hoped he didn't. For his sake and hers, she hoped he didn't.

Chapter 17: Inevitable

Notes:

"Sooner or later
It all comes apart
The walls are all shattered
I'm back at the start
And I'm willing to follow this
Wherever it goes
The heart has its reasons that
Nobody knows"
- "Fall On Me", A Great Big World

Chapter Text

Lucy managed to keep most of her tears at bay until after Cam left, only allowing herself to feel the full weight of the heartache once she was certain he was gone for good. Left alone, she cried, but not for long and not very hard. She was simply too tired for more. The day had been long and anxiety-riddled, filled with troubles entirely separate from their breakup. Her tears fell slowly and silently, and most had dried by the time the nurse came to check on her twenty minutes later.

She took one look at her patient's wet, red-rimmed eyes, and tutted sympathetically. "Oh, dear. Are you in pain? Antibiotics this strong can sometimes cause adverse reactions. I was hoping you'd get lucky."

Lucy shook her head. "No, it's not that." The eagle-eyed nurse did not seem convinced. "I think I'm just tired. It's been a really long day."

Although she still eyed her warily, this reasoning seemed to mollify the nurse, who nodded. "Maybe you should rest then. Want me to help you get your hair down? Might make it easier to sleep."

The task would've been difficult with one hand hooked up to an IV, so Lucy was glad for the help. The nurse made quick work of her hairband and pins, setting them in a pile on the nightstand before shaking the resulting waves out gently with her fingers. Lucy would've loved a shower, but settled for brushing it through carefully with a thin, hospital-issued comb. Once she was certain she was comfortable, the nurse left, hitting the lights on her way out. In the newly dark room, the fatigue of the day caught up to her. Lulled by the drip of her IV and the ambient din outside her room, Lucy quickly fell asleep.

It couldn't have been long before she was roused by the sound of the the door opening with a muted creak. The noise was enough to disturb her, but not enough to pull her entirely out of sleep. Suspended in the space between waking and dreaming, she heard the shuffle of footsteps coming near her bed, followed by a soft laugh.

"Damn it, Lucy," Tim whispered, followed by a rustling sound. There was silence for a moment or two, then she felt fingers lightly card through her hair. His touch was soft and warm, but it didn't linger. The caress lasted only long enough for him to brush one lock of hair behind her ear, and then he withdrew.

She opened her eyes just in time to see the door close behind him. Her dinner was on the end table.

As planned, Lucy was released from the hospital the following day around lunch time. She received the news with notable relief. After the day she'd had,somethinggoing according to plan felt almost miraculous. The nurse that oversaw her discharge handed her a week's worth of amoxicillin, along with strict instructions to clean the puncture wound carefully with antimicrobial soap for the next few days. She would be sure to heed the verbal instructions, and read over the other notes while she waited for her Uber to arrive and take her back to the station. Her car was still at the precinct from the day before, as were her clothes, and she planned to retrieve both before going home.

She arrived at the station a little after one. Being that she'd had no other clothes and had not sent anyone to retrieve a new set during her brief hospital stay, she'd had no choice but to wear yesterday's uniform. As she walked through the lobby, she was spotted by Tim almost immediately.

"Hey," he said, falling into step beside her as she walked towards the locker room. "What are you doing here? When did you get out of the hospital?"

"Just a little bit ago," she replied. "Wanted to get my things and my car before I head home."

"Your car is still here?" he asked. "How'd you get here, then?"

"I took an uber."

His face fell with visible disappointment. "You could've called me, you know."

She shrugged and tried to sound nonchalant as she replied, "I knew that you were working today, and honestly, you did enough for me yesterday." It wasn't that she believed that there was a limit to the favors he would d do for her, but she also wanted to be mindful not to push it. Things between them were finally going well again; the last thing she wanted was to overextend his goodwill by asking for too much, or asking too often.

Her explanation did not appease him, but he merely muttered an unimpressed "Whatever," in response. Having decided to let the topic drop for the time being, he continued in a different vein. "I talked to my neighbor about your car. Want to come by my place tonight so he can tinker with it?"

"Oh," she began, a little uncertain. She'd just tried to put space between favors, and yet here he was offering another. "I didn't expect him to be available so quickly."

"Would you rather it stay broken?"

"No, no. Tonight is great."

"Okay. My shift ends at five. Meet at my place at six?"

"Sounds good."

"Good." He said, then motioned toward the locker room. "Better get going before someone spots you in uniform and tries to make you work." Then, he added gently, "And, uh… take it easy today, okay Boot?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, then hurried off.

Tim was waiting in the drive when Lucy pulled up. He was talking with another man, a shorter gentleman who appeared to be in his early sixties. Both waved as she rolled into the driveway. As Lucy got out of her car, Tim introduced the two. The neighbor's name was Dennis. He used to work in the motor pool of the LAPD, Tim said, and had retired just a few years ago. Now he worked on cars as a hobby, occasionally taking on paying jobs to supplement his pension.

"Going to need to see what's broken before I know how to fix it," he said to her as she turned over the keys to him. "You kids go on ahead inside and relax. I'll holler if I need anything."

To pass the time while Dennis worked on her car, they watched a movie. Well, they tried to, at least. They spent a good portion of the evening arguing over which movie to watch. Between Tim's streaming accounts and his BluRay collection, there were plenty of options for one particular genre of movie: action. Lucy didn't hate action movies, but she liked them less the longer she worked as a cop. Shootouts and car chases had lost a lot of their entertainment value after she'd lived through a few herself. For every one of his suggestions, she'd counter with something else. A few light-hearted jokes about his general taste in films were made, leading to him to defend his choices with debate-level intensity. It was almost an hour before they landed on "The Princess Bride", and even then, it took some coercing on Lucy's part to get Tim to agree.

He put the disc in the Blu-Ray player and shot her a pointed look over his shoulder as the tray slid shut, pretending like what he'd agreed to caused him some silent pain. Lucy, for her part, was pleased to the point of giddiness at having won even this inch with him. As soon as he sat down beside her, she pulled out her phone and opened the camera.

"Hey Bradford," she said. He looked up, eyes widening when he noticed his mirrored image on the screen in her hand. "Smile." She snapped the picture a second later.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a frown.

"Commemorating a moment," she answered as she looked at the picture. She'd chosen to sit on the couch and half-expected Tim to pick a seat farther away, but he'd decided to take a space close enough that getting them both in the picture was not difficult.

"You 'commemorate' most movie nights?"

"No, but I just got Tim Bradford to give me my way," she remarked with a smirk. "That's nothing short of historical."

He glared at her, but the hint of a smile in his eyes betrayed him. "I didnotgive you your way."

She gestured emphatically towards the television. "Are we, or are we not watching the movie I picked?" He stammered over an incomplete answer, but she shushed him with a final, "I thought so."

They had only made it fifteen minutes into the movie when Dennis knocked on the door.
"Think I've got her all fixed up, miss," he said while wiping his greased hands onto a handkerchief he had pulled from his back pocket.

Tim stood to his feet first. "I was hoping for a little bit more than a 'think' here, Dennis," he replied with a smirk.

Dennis dismissed his concerns with a chortle. "Well, I wasn't talking to you, Bradford." He tossed the keys Lucy's way, and she caught them with one hand. "Didn't need new parts, just a little help under the hood. Should run fine, but if you start having problems again, have Bradford call me. Or better yet," he nudged Tim with one elbow, "get her a better car, why don't you?" He saw himself out after that, leaving Tim with an amused look on his face, and Lucy briefly confused.

"Wait! I need to pay him," she exclaimed as she scrambled to her feet as she reached for her purse.

Tim stopped her. "It's taken care of," he said.

Her wallet in one hand, Lucy asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's taken care of, okay? Don't make a big deal about it. Sit down." Then he returned to his seat beside her on the sofa, picked up his beer, and turned the movie back on.

She fixed her eyes on the screen, but could barely focus as the three bandits ascended the perilous Cliffs of Insanity with the princess, the man in black trailing behind. She doubted Dennis had done the work for free. Hadn't Tim said that he'd do the work cheaply?

"Did you pay him?" she asked, point blank.

He sighed. "I told you don't make a big deal about it."

She said no more, and he never confirmed it, but she knew.

Tim wouldn't take much as thanks except, well, "thanks". Like other evenings, they would probably never mention this night again, even though she stuck around long enough that they had pad thai delivered for dinner and ate on the floor of the living room while they finished the movie. It wasn't discussed, and on the one hand, that was fine by Lucy. On the other, she couldn't help but mull it over. Over the next few days, she took stock of the favors he'd done for her throughout the course of knowing each other, and was surprised to see they extended as far back as the beginning of her training when he paid for her lunch they day she'd run out of a diner to complete an arrest on foot. No wonder their attempts at boundaries had turned out weak and half-hearted. They were formed on grounds that had already been compromised.

On the thirteenth of February, Lucy backed out of plans for a night out with Jackson and Nolan, much to the disappointment of both of her friends. Although they tried to convince her to come out anyway, with Nolan going so far as to promise he'd cover all her drinks for the night, she was resolved on the matter.

"I'm going to get myself a bottle of wine, watch a Richard Chamberlain movie, and begin my slow descent into middle age and eventual oblivion," she relayed with a tight smile.

Revealing her admittedly maudlin plans for the evening momentarily struck both men speechless. The silence was broken when Nolan mumbled, "Cheery". Sure, it was out of character for her to sound so dour, but she had her reasons for being cranky. This time last year, Rachel had taken her out to celebrate it being her last Valentine's season without her soulmate. Really, it was a sparsely-concealed excuse to go out partying, which was more Rachel's taste than Lucy's, but she went along for the night. Rachel had gone so far with celebrating as to make her wear a sash and tiara, and they blasted "I've Had The Time Of My Life" as they drove from bar to bar with the windows down.

Yet here she stood one year later, and none of her hopes from the last Valentine's Day had materialized. After everything that had (and had not) happened, Lucy felt entitled to one good, long night of sulking and self-indulgence.

She changed into her pajamas the second she got home. By seven, she was sitting on her couch with a fresh box of pizza and a bottle of red wine, from which she poured herself a glass well beyond the suggested serving size. Then she started the night's entertainment, her eyes welling instantly as she heard the familiar orchestral strains of the overture from "The Slipper and The Rose". Before she was a full half-hour into the movie, her phone rang. She answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." She recognized the cheerful voice on the other end as Rachel.

"Hey, Rach." Lucy didn't pause the movie, but she did turn the volume down so she could hear her better.

"Hey! I know it's last minute, but I was wondering if Cam could spare you for a girl's night out tonight? I haven't seen you inforever."

She took a large gulp of her wine before speaking. "Yeah, probably. I mean," her sarcastic chuckle came out a little watery, "he can spare me every night since we broke up."

Rachel gasped, the sound sharp through the phone speaker. "Oh, Lucy! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay. It was the right thing for both of us." She was certain of that.

"Well, do you want to come out anyway?" Rachel asked. "Do you feel up to that?"

Lucy sighed and ran a hand through her hair as she paused to think. She'd already washed her face and put on her pajamas. Getting ready to go out would be a whole thing, and she didn't know if she had the energy forthingsright now. "I don't know Rach. I'm sort of in the middle of something."

"… Are you watching that Cinderella movie with that guy from 'The Thorn Birds'?"

"How did you know?"

"You've watched the same movie when you're sad since we were roommates." A beat followed, with the sounds of Rachel's footsteps discernible. "I'm coming over. Don't you dare drink another drop until I'm there."

Her wine glass came to a stop at the edge of her lips. "… I'm not drinking," she fibbed.

"Lucy."

"Fine. Fine." She set her glass aside with a pout. "I'm not drinkingnow."

"Good. I'll be there soon."

Rachel must have left the second the phone call ended. She arrived at Lucy's doorstep only ten minutes later. It was evident she'd expected Lucy to say yes to an impromptu night on the town, given that she was dressed for just such an occasion, donning a fitted black, long-sleeve dress and red heels.

Meeting her in her boxers and an old T-shirt with the "Friends" logo on it, Lucy felt a little schlubby by comparison.

"Hey, babe," Rachel said mournfully after Lucy let her in. She didn't make a big deal about Lucy's state, just followed her back to the living room. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not much to say," Lucy whispered as she pressed reverse on the movie. She was on her fourth rewatch of the part featuring "Once I Was Loved". An apt choice, if she said so herself. "It's over."

Rachel sighed. "He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"He didn't do a number on me," she admitted.

"No?"

"No.Idid a number on me." She explained it all, starting with the very beginning with Tim, and how she omitted the truth about her soulmate when she and Cam started dating, and ending with their breakup at the hospital. "I still don't know why I didn't just tell him the entire truth to begin with. Like, what was I thinking? I knew it was a bad idea. Everyonetoldme it was a bad idea and I just… kept the lie up like it was nothing."

Rachel just looked at her, unmoved and unconvinced by her rant. "Seriously, Lucy? Are you hearing yourself?" She scooted closer and reached for her hand. "You didn't tell Cam about your soulmate because it was never about him. It was abouthim."

"Which him?"

"The… other one? The soulmate one. Tim, you said?"

"But it wasn't!" The second the words left her mouth, Lucy knew that was a knee-jerk reaction, and again, glossed over too much of the truth. Deciding to date had been a ploy on Lucy's part; a method to get over her soulmate-related disappointment, one she now recognized as ill-advised and unfair. At its root, dating Cam could not be separated from her experiences with Tim. One had directly influenced the other, something she'd only realized with the benefit of hindsight. The more honest conclusion, which she whispered to Rachel, was, "I didn't mean it to be."

"Maybe it's for the best that this happened sooner rather than later. I mean," Rachel added, her nose wrinkling as she said, "Everything you've told me about Cam makes him sound kind of boring, anyway."

Lucy became a tad defensive on her ex's behalf. "He wasn't boring. Look." She pulled out her phone and brought up a picture of Cam. After showing one to Rachel, she swiped through a few candids they'd taken together while dating.

"Okay, so?" Rachel was still unimpressed. "I'll admit that he's hot. You can be attractive and dull as dirt."

"It's not just Cam," she said with a sigh. For as much as she still felt guilty over how she'd treated him, she just as much felt sad for herself. Lonely, too, and neither feeling was easily addressed. Both were symptoms of a deeper issue she'd only recently begun to acknowledge. If she couldn't promise Cam, who was a great match for her in every way but one, that Tim would not be an obstacle, to whom could she make that promise? "Maybe I should just be single forever." Not a bad idea from where she currently stood with things. It wasn't like life would have no meaning if she remained unattached. She had her career, her friends, and to some extent, Tim, although she held no expectations for the future in regards to him.

Rachel responded with a roll of her eyes. "That timer has made you a drama queen, which is exactly why I never got one," she mumbled. Before Lucy could react with offense, she asked, "What if you had made that promise to Cam, hm? Do you really think you would've been able to make it work?"

"I don't know," she said.

"I do. Sweeping ultimatums like that are no foundation for a relationship, no matter how justified they seem."

Lucy nodded slowly before looking away. "You're probably right."

A few minutes passed where both women watched the movie in companionable silence. Richard Chamberlain's Prince Edward danced around a mausoleum with a friend while Cinderella, not knowing on whom she spied, peered through the window. By the time the Fairy Godmother showed up, Rachel had kicked off her shoes. Lucy offered her a set of comfier clothes since her plan to go out had been thwarted and poured her a glass of wine.

As they watched Cinderella ride to the ball, Rachel said, "So, tell me about Tim. What's he like?"

"He's…" she had to pause as she wondered what to say next. Nice? Depended on when. Funny? Sometimes, but that was because he possessed dry wit and good timing rather than jokes. She realized he sort of defied description. The more she learned about him, the less it seemed like she knew. The best she felt like she could do was, "He's a lot. He acts tough because of the job, but that's a mask. He's kind of intense sometimes, but he's…" After another moment to consider, she landed on one word that she felt informed all the pieces of him that she knew. "He's good. He's genuinely just a good man." She chuckled to herself as she added, "And if he heard me say that, he'd probably deny it."

"Is he cute?"

At least that she could answer more directly. "Yea, he's pretty cute, if you're into blue eyes and biceps."

"Show me."

She pulled up the photo from their movie night and handed her phone to Rachel.

Her jaw dropped. A cross between a giggle and a gasp left her lips, and her eyes darted from the picture to Lucy, then back. "Um… are you kidding me?" She handed the phone back while letting out a deep breath and laughing in something like disbelief. "Lucy. He's kind ofgorgeous."

"I mean…" she took her phone back and looked at the picture for herself. Ignoring her own face, she focused on Tim's, zooming in to see him better. She thought he'd neglected to smile when she snapped it, but no, there was a hint of one on his lips that she only noticed upon closer inspection. She had also managed to catch him at a pretty good angle and with decent light through the bay window. It made him look younger, brighter, and warm. And of course, his eyes; always with those bright blue eyes. She could see why Rachel would take one look and declare himgorgeous."I guess so."

"Youguess so? First Cam, now Tim? Although, I guess it was Tim first, wasn't it?" She batted Lucy's arm playfully before reaching for her wine. "Damn, Lucy. You get all the luck."

"Yeah, that's me," she replied with a joyless chuckle. "Lucky Lucy." Lucky Lucy, newly single, with her soulmate married to someone else.Gorgeoushad been a fair assessment from Rachel;luckywas not.

At her shift the next morning, Lucy was surprised to learn that Tim was taking a personal day. According to Angela, he never took personal time; hearing that only increased her level of concern. Being that she had no TO for the day, she was assigned to the front desk. While she walked towards her assignment, she sent Tim a quick text, just to check-in.

Heard you're taking a personal day. Hope everything's all right.

She almost regretted hitting send, afraid it would be seen as crossing a line, but her fears were proven unfounded when she saw his reply.

Everything's fine. Just something I gotta do. Have a good day, Chen.

She replied,You too, Bradford.

She expected to be bored by a day at the front desk, but soon found it was actually a welcome reprieve from the excitement. Sure, she would've hated to do it every day, but once in awhile wasn't so bad. She got to receive and deliver a handful of fun Valentine's Day arrangements sent from boyfriends and girlfriends to their partners working desk jobs in the station. Lucy felt a twinge remembering she'd get no flowers this year, but it quickly subsided without much effort on her part; a sign she was coping with her heartbreaks, or so she hoped. The highlight of her shift came when she called Nolan down to receive a gift basket from an admirer, and was mildly amused when he tried to back out of accepting it. The woman refused to take the basket with her, and he was left with an armful of goodies that Lucy would happily take off his hands if only he would offer.

"You wanna come to my little shindig tonight?" he asked as he offered her one of the blueberry muffins. "Should be fun. Lonely hearts only."

"Might as well," she said as she took the muffin from his open palm. "Not like I have anything else going on."

"Oh, I'm so flattered," he chuckled. "Any word from Tim?"

Lucy shook her head. "But you know, that's not exactly surprising. He doesn't tell me stuff."

"Well, he tells yousomestuff, right?"

She didn't even know enough to be sure that what little she knew qualified as "some". "I think we're in a good place, but there's things he needs to keep to himself, and I get it." She didn't always like it, but she tried to understand. "I don't blame him for holding back sometimes." Especially not after seeing how forthcoming he had been in some of his most delicate and difficult moments. Just because she didn't know everything didn't mean he didn't trust her.

Nolan left soon after that with his muffins, and she saw out the rest of her rather uninteresting shift with little thought to her training officer, and wherever he may be. She received and distributed four more gigantic bouquets by the time her workday drew to a close, and left to clock out and change around 5 o'clock.

She walked out to the parking lot and was stunned and a little relieved to find Tim leaning against the trunk of her car. He looked good. Tired, but good. Wherever he'd gone, whatever he'd done, he seemed okay, and that was a comfort to her.

"Everything okay?" she asked once she was closer.

He nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Or it will be." He pushed off of her car so he could stand, and she noticed he was standing oddly with both hands behind his back. "I have a gift for you," he said, then held out a bag to her. "Happy Valentine's Day."

She couldn't help but grin as she took the pink and white bag out of his hands. "You got me a Valentine's present?"

Tim looked sheepish as he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "Sort of," he said as she reached through the tissue paper. "It's something you said you wanted. I'll understand if you've changed your mind."

She soon had the item free of the paper and set the bag aside on the trunk of her car before looking down at the rectangular object in her hands. It was a wooden frame, the perfect size for a 4x6 picture, and behind the pristine glass was the photograph they'd argued over in his house weeks ago. Lucy ran one finger down the sharp corner of the frame, a smile playing on her lips as she whispered, "Oh, Tim." She looked at him, her breath catching as she found him watching her with a soft expression. "Are you sure you want me to have this?"

"Absolutely," he replied without missing a beat. "Unless you don't want it?" He pretended to reach for it, a replay of their argument from that night, and laughed when she held it close. "I thought so."

She tapped her finger on the corner of the frame, worrying her bottom lip as she asked, "Where did you go today?" When he hesitated, she was quick to clarify. "I don't need all the details, but… well, Angela mentioned in the briefing room that you never take personal days."

A smile passed over his lips, but he fought it back, managing to school all but one corner into stoicism; the smile lines on the left side of his mouth betrayed him, as did the glimmer in his eye as he asked, "You worried about me, Chen?"

Well, duh. "Isn't it obvious by now, Bradford? That's kinda what we do." They worried about each other. They checked on each other. They cared for and took care of each other in varying degrees, circling this nebulous thing that neither of them could identify without approaching a level of vulnerability neither of them were yet ready for.

"I was seeing Isabel."

Against her will and better judgment, Lucy deflated. "Oh."

Seeing her reaction, Tim explained. "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, "it's over."

"Her rehab?"

"No. Our marriage."

Her jaw fell open, slack and stunned as she tried to wrap her head around the news. "What do you mean? Why?"

He replied, "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."

Her hand raised to touch his arm, attempting to offer comfort as she grasped him gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you love her." Lucy was careful not to make the wordlovepast tense, not being so foolish as to think that the end of a relationship meant the absence of a feeling.

"Yeah," he said with a short nod. "You're right, but this is the right thing for both of us." He stepped back, breaking her grasp "Um, but I won't keep you. I'm sure you have plans with Cam. I'll see you tomorrow."

He began to walk away but only made it a few steps before Lucy called his name. She waited until he'd turned to face her before informing him, "Cam and I broke up a few days ago." She didn't feel the need to mention why, nor did she reveal exactly what had precipitated the break-up. Instead, she echoed what he'd said about his marriage coming to an end, words she'd said herself many times referring to the end of her relationship with Cam. "It was the right thing for both of us."

Lucy watched his face as Tim took in this information, knowing that this instant, more than any since the day they'd met, was the heaviest and the most loaded. They stood only a few feet apart, but that distance -and the emotional, unseen one- no longer seemed insurmountable. She was here, and he was there, and they were one another's long-awaited soulmates. Yes, there were hurdles and yes, there were complications, but at this second, none of that seemed to matter.

"Okay," he whispered, a single word that felt like a promise.

"Okay," she replied; and at that moment, Lucy was certain they were inevitable.

Chapter 18: Too Ugly a Truth

Notes:

"If it doesn't break your heart,
It isn't love."
- "Yet", Switchfoot

Chapter Text

They parted ways not long after Tim had given her the gift. Beside "okay", neither said another word before they walked to their individual cars, although a peek back in his direction showed that he'd been watching her go from over his shoulder, moving at a slow, unhurried shuffle the entire time. Lucy waited until his truck was no longer visible in her rearview mirror to pull out the picture frame and look it over one more time. She was still in disbelief that he'd given her a present, let alone one so thoughtful and transparently sentimental. She wondered what had prompted him to give it to her now after insisting on keeping it the night he first showed it to her. It couldn't be that it no longer mattered to him. It had been significant enough for him to keep it safe for fourteen years. Not only safe, but readily accessible judging by how quickly he was able to leave her and return with it that night at his house. Perhaps it was a copy? She carefully removed the back and confirmed the humorous inscription about trash cans was still there. He'd given her the original, and although she was touched by the gift, she was left to only guess at why.

She decided to interpret it as an invitation; an open door, and hopefully the first of many. An important moment from his past was now literally in her hands. The picture itself represented the first time the roads of their lives had converged into a single lane. Him giving her the picture was another example of that. But this wasn't just a moment of their lives, she thought, as she allowed herself to trace a circle around the face of his younger self; this was a piece of their history. Of their shared story.

Was it awful of her to wonder what would come next? Was it too soon, and therefore shameful to hope for the things she'd so far denied herself the chance to even dream about? Because she felt like the world had suddenly opened up in front of her with a simple gesture and a single word. Because what (and who) she wanted didn't seem a distant fantasy now, but within her reach if still far off.

Because she had not been able to get his touch completely off her mind since the moment he'd held her in his arms.

Now, knowing what she knew, she almost greedily wished for more. What would it be like to really touch him? Not the passing contact that sometimes occurred during work, not by accident, but with intention; with affection, and with longing. What would it be like to finally hold him with no inhibitions? Her cheeks flushed as her mind wandered quickly, off on a detailed path of its own creation. She drove towards Nolan's on autopilot as the daydreams she had so long held at bay were finally allowed to play freely through her mind. She arrived at the guest house with her cheeks flushed pink, and felt a little like she was floating as she walked towards the front door. She had to bite down hard on the inside of her cheek so that her grin didn't give her away, afraid that Nolan would see her expression and ask her what had occurred to put such a dopey smile on her face. Their exchange in the parking garage was still too recent for her to discuss with others; she wanted to treasure it privately for a little while longer.

As for the images that filled her mind on the way over, well. Those were hers and hers alone.

She was welcomed into Nolan's party with a hug and a cheer, then introduced to Ben, his friend-slash-landlord. She liked Ben instantly. He was a little wild, sure, and had a touch of boyish attitude that only a trust fund could buy, but was altogether a fun, friendly guy. Nolan had extended invitations to several of their coworkers, but so far none had showed. Not even Jackson, which surprised her, but when she texted him to ask where he was, he let her know he was on a date with a nurse he'd met that afternoon. Ben had invited a woman he met while picking up liquor. He had no sooner mentioned that fact when the doorbell rang and a woman joined them.

Her elation from earlier faded when Lucy noticed concern furrow Nolan's brow. It took her a minute to place the face, but she finally realized that it was the same person who had dropped off a gift basket for Nolan earlier, while she was manning the front desk. Her name was Denise, and although she tried to play it off as a happy coincidence, the desperation in her face and tone was unmistakable and worrisome. Although Lucy had made a few offhand, joking comments out of her earshot to Nolan about his stalker, the night nearly took a tragic turn when Denise helped herself to his bedroom, removed her clothes, and took a few sleeping pills with a glass of champagne.

While Nolan called an ambulance, Lucy took on the task of maneuvering clothes back onto Denise's body. It was difficult work; her limbs were rapidly going slack, making it hard to clothe her as her motor function decreased by the minute, and she drifted towards unconsciousness. Her breathing was deep and slow as the three of them carried her to the living room and laid her on the floor. Once more Lucy took the lead in caring for her. It was she who sat beside Denise and gently lifted her head onto her lap, then began to comb her fingers through her hair. Occasionally, she patted the sides of her face gently in an effort to keep her awake while they waited for help.

There was not much first aid any of them could safely administer for poisoning. Making her throw up could choke her, and it wasn't like Nolan kept activated charcoal on hand to negate the absorption of the medicine. All any of them could do was try to keep her awake, and for her own peace of mind attempted to track her pulse. She picked up her left arm to feel for her heartbeat, but paused when she saw the timer on Denise's wrist. It was a model like hers, a thin strip of acrylic with rounded edges. Instead of numbers, her screen showed dashes. The light it emitted was not green, but a faint yellow, indicating that the timer's connection to another had at some point in the past been severed. Her heart sank in her chest as she understood at once why Denise had become attached to Nolan so quickly, and why she felt low enough to take her own life at his refusal of her advances. The woman in her arms was not suffering from the average heartbreak, nor was it mere loneliness that motivated her; in all likeliness, she was mourning for a soulmate that had either left her behind or worse.

The ambulance came quickly, and thank goodness for that. Neither they nor the paramedics could get a straight answer out of Denise about how many pills she'd taken. The small orange pill bottle was empty, but she'd only held up two fingers on either hand when Nolan had asked how many she'd ingested, so their best guess was between two and four sleep aids with alcohol. Survivable, but still scary. Nolan, ever the rescuer, wanted to accompany her, but both Lucy and Ben shot down the idea. Lucy went alone, following a safe distance behind the ambulance as it sped toward Shaw Memorial.

She checked in with the ER reception after arrival and introduced herself as an off-duty officer accompanying Denise, then asked if any next of kin were on record that could be notified. Her closest relative was in Santa Barbara, a sister named Sam. Santa Barbara being almost two hours away, it would be awhile before she could make it to the hospital. She asked Lucy whether she could stay until she made it.

She hesitated only briefly. Even though she really would rather have gone home, sympathy overrode the urge, and she agreed.

Within the hour, the nurse at reception informed her that Denise was stable and would make it through, although they would hold her for twenty-four hours for her safety. That was standard, she knew, and not just because this was a near-miss overdose. It qualified as a suicide attempt, so for her safety she would be monitored a full twenty-four hours before being released into her sister's care. She asked to visit and was allowed back into the triage, where Denise was awake. Awake, but still pretty drowsy, and receiving a slow but steady drip of fluids through an IV. She managed a weak smile when Lucy came into view.

"Officer Chen," she said. Her voice sounded thin and raspy now, not nearly so full and emotive as it had been at Nolan's. "I guess I have two heroes today. Lucky me."

"Don't worry. I'm not expecting muffins," she replied as she pulled up a chair to Denise's bedside. Then, she asked simply, "How do you feel?"

It was a second or two before she responded. "I'm okay. A little embarrassed, but okay."

"Good. That's good." More than good; it was a relief. "Front desk and I got in touch with your sister. She's on her way into town, but it'll be awhile before she gets here. She asked me to keep an eye on you." When she tensed, Lucy quickly added, "If that's okay."

Denise nodded curtly, but still remained rigid with her fists clenched at her sides. Soon, her eyes were glassy with tears. "Sorry," she said through a single, choking sob. "I just… I haven't seen her since the funeral."

"… Is there someone else you want me to call instead?"

"No, no," she replied, then added, "There's no one else. It's just us." Her gaze traveled the room, apparently intent on looking anywhere but Lucy's eyes. Eventually, she fixated on the IV and began to pick at the tape that held the needle in place. Lucy watched her carefully, but saw that it wasn't an attempt to remove the IV; it was a closer to a tic, displaced stress or anxiety manifesting in the form of a mannerism. "Do you have a soulmate, Officer Chen?"

The question caught her off-guard; although, given what she'd so far surmised about Denise's circumstance, maybe it shouldn't have. She took a deep, fortifying breath before answering, "I do."

Her lips pursed as she asked, "What would you do if they died?"

She didn't know. She'd never thought about it before.

Well, no. That wasn't quite true, was it? She'd considered it once, but only briefly. It had crossed her mind during her second day on patrol… the day that Tim had gotten shot through his side. Distance from the actual shooting had not dulled her recollection of it at all. She remembered only too vividly and could recall in excruciating detail the sound of the gunshots and the smell of hot metal, not far removed from the pungent scent of blood as she bent over Tim after the bullet had gone through him. She had pressed her palm against his gunshot wound as he groaned and ordered her to go. She felt as his pulse grew rapid beneath her hand as a result of his pain level and the sudden surge of adrenaline in his veins. His blood pumped against her skin with every one of his heartbeats, slipping between her fingers in red rivulets as bile rose in the back of her throat. Even now, sitting in a hospital room and removed from the shooting by several months, a cold chill ran upwards from the base of Lucy's spine. She had not thought about it since the day it happened, and it was an experience she did not wish to recall often. Living it had made her vomit. Remembering it made her feel equally ill. If Tim had not survived, her trauma would've been compounded, multiplied to an unnamable degree. Although Denise surely deserved an answer, Lucy had none, and so said nothing in response.

Tears streamed from the corners of Denise's eyes as she looked skyward. They streaked down her temples and landing on the white cotton pillowcase beneath her head as she spoke again. "I was getting my hair done when my timer turned to dashes. Isn't that the stupidest fucking thing you've ever heard?" she asked with a sad chuckle. "Paul was overseas, six months into a nine month deployment, and there I was in the middle of getting a full head of foils, and I just… I just started sobbing in the middle of the salon, because I knew he was dead. No one had any clue what happened. People thought I was out of my mind. Having some sort of breakdown, or something."

Her soulmate had died; killed in action. Lucy had guessed as much at Nolan's house, deducing all but the details, but that did not soften the blow of knowing for certain. "I'm so sorry, Denise," she whispered.

"They don't tell you about that when you get your timer," she continued, moving on with her story as if Lucy had not said a word; as if Lucy were not eventhere. "They don't tell you that if the worst happens, you'll know the second it does. No one warns you. No one prepares you. It's too ugly a truth to put in the brochure, I guess." Her hand moved from absently picking at the tape to run one finger absently over the blank timer on her left wrist. "And you don't even get to keep the zeroes to remind yourself that you once were loved." She fell silent then, and before long, Denise's eyes slipped closed once more. Not with sleep, but from grief.

Her own hand reached out, mirroring Denise's movement to touch her timer. Instead of acrylic, her fingertips met with the leather strap of Nolan's watch. Beneath it, she knew her timer was glowing green and showing zeroes. Her heart ached for Denise in her mourning, but even though she sympathized, it was a pain she personally could not begin to fathom. Perhaps could not was less accurate than would not. The idea of losing Tim, or the horror of being able to pinpoint the moment it happened… Maybe it was superstition on her part, but Lucy refused to envision it. She would not even dare.

She stayed at the hospital until Denise's sister arrived. By then, she had fallen asleep. Lucy felt drowsy too, but the chairs in the ER triage were less forgiving than even those in the waiting room, so she stayed awake, if not completely alert. Eventually, a young woman entered the room. She appeared to be in her early twenties, if not younger, and sported a platinum blonde pixie cut, the fringe of which nearly obscured hazel eyes that were identical to Denise's both in shape and expressiveness.

"Officer Chen?" Sam asked, looking Lucy over once with a scrutinizing glare and a wrinkled nose. "You sure don't look like a cop."

"I'm off-duty," she replied as she rose to her feet. "Your sister was at a party a friend of mine was holding when she snuck away with a handful of sleeping pills," she explained. "We caught it early. She should be okay."

Sam looked at her sister, then back at Lucy before nodding. "Um, do I… I don't know what happens now. Is this a police thing? Am I going to be subpoenaed or some shit?"

"No. Nothing like that. She didn't do anything illegal. She's just… hurting." Lucy looked back at Denise. Her face appeared so untroubled when she slept, almost peaceful. It gave her hope for the woman's future, if only she could get the help she both needed and deserved. "Just be there for her. Help her, and if you can, get her therapy."

Sam's lower lip quivered as she nodded. "How bad was it?"

Lucy didn't know how much to say merely because she wanted to leave Denise her dignity; it wasn't really her story to tell, and how much she shared and when should have been up to her. "She got lucky," was the reply she settled on before she reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of her business cards. "Look, I hope you don't think I'm overstepping here, but I know you're a few hours away. If you're ever worried about her and need someone to check on her fast," she handed her one of the cards, "call me directly."

Sam sniffled a little as she looked at the card. "Didn't think cops made that kind of house call," she said, then stuck the card into the side pocket of her black leather backpack. "No offense, officer, but I hope you never hear from me again."

On the surface it looked like an insult, but Lucy understood the spirit in which it was said; to be honest, she couldn't agree more.

It was after eleven by the time she pulled out of the hospital parking lot and finally,finallyheaded home. The day had taken her across the spectrum of emotions at a speed that could be considered breakneck. She'd peaked with Tim before being plunged to the depths of loss with Denise, and in the meantime seemed to experience every bliss and agony in-between. As she steered towards her apartment, she wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower to clear her head and calm her nerves before climbing into bed.

Coming home to find a notice of eviction taped to her door was not a great feeling; speaking strictly about her own experience, it was the shittiest possible turn the day could have taken. Lucy ripped the note off the door and crumpled it, un-crumpled it, then crumpled it again as she stood in her darkened living room before casting the paper aside without giving a care where it landed. She showered then, but it did not relax her half as much as she'd hoped, and unfortunately the rest of the night was equally restless. She tossed and turned throughout. Some of her mind was occupied with worries over finding a new apartment. Another part thought about Denise, her husband, and her loss. She was haunted by the helpless stare of her much younger sister, and prayed that Sam would call if help was needed, no matter what she had said at the hospital. Those thoughts alone should have taken up all her attention, but no; still another corner dedicated itself to obsessing over the way her relationship with Tim had once again changed, progressing in a direction she had previously thought impossible.

The day had started off so mild and ordinary. Now, her insides were turning knots, weaving a web that couldn't be untangled over the course of a single night. When she rose with the sunrise, Lucy did not remember having slept at all.

Chapter 19: Turning A Corner

Notes:

"All I know since yesterday
Is everything has changed."

- "Everything Has Changed", Taylor Swift

Chapter Text

It wasn't the first time that she'd worked with Tim immediately following an emotionally loaded encounter, but the next day was the first instance she could think of where he seemed to acknowledge it. Not with words; it was never words with him. It was his demeanor that changed. He wasn't scowling the moment he saw her, but instead smiled a little when she first crossed his path. Forcing his face into a neutral expression appeared harder for him than it had other mornings, confirming again that she wasn't the only one affected.

"Good news. Going to be a short shift today, Boot," Tim said as he fell into step beside her as she carried the gear to the shop. "Sergeant's got us on nights starting tonight. We'll do a half shift today and come back around nine, okay?"

Lucy nodded. "That's great actually," she replied, already forming a plan for how she'd use her time during the gap between the morning and night shift. "I can use this afternoon to find a new apartment." After worrying woke her up early, she'd scoured the web for available apartments and managed to compile a short list of a handful of options. With any luck, she could see all of them that afternoon; a little more, and she might be into a new lease by the end of the week.

He looked at her skeptically. "What happened with your old place?"

"The owner sold the building to a developer," she explained, trying to sound less panicked than she felt about the situation. She'd read over the twice-crumpled letter again this morning before throwing it away for good in a huff. It didn't all seem entirely legal, but there wasn't much she could do to stop it. "Everyone's getting evicted."

"Gotta love gentrification," he replied drily, then asked, "Need some help finding a new place?"

"Not unless you have real estate connections I don't know about."

"Wish I did, but no."

She waved him off. "Don't know if there's much you can help with, except looking, but I doubt you really want to drive me all over LA during your downtime. Isn't that, like, half of your day job?"

"I didn't say it's my idea of a fun time," he replied, then added, "but I'd do it if you asked."

She was taken aback by his offer. Where was this…nicenesscoming from? First last night, and now today? Should she start expecting this from him always? It hardly felt like the same Tim she'd met months ago, but she was not about to mention it and scare him off of being helpful. Without referencing his kindness, Lucy answered, "No, it's okay. If anything, I'll just ask Jackson or Nolan to help. Nolan could be good for this, actually. His experience as a contractor might come in handy. Get it?Handy?" At this, Tim muttered something under his breath, although she couldn't catch what. It certainly wasn't amusement over her pun, and it also wasn't the first time that he'd openly groused when Nolan's name came up in conversation. "What's going on?" she asked. "Do you have something against him?"

"Didn't say that," Tim replied, but the terse tone he took indicated otherwise. "Look, let me help you, don't let me help you, it really makes no difference to me." So he said, but she saw in his face that that wasn't quite true. It was evident he was trying to downplay his own feelings regarding the matter.

"Would you like to help me find a new apartment?"

It was his suggestion in the first place, but now he played at being noncommittal. "I can, if it's important to you."

"It isn't, but it sure seemed important toyoua second ago."

"It's not."

"Then don't come."

"But you just asked me to."

"Then come."

"Only if you want me to."

"Oh my God," Lucy exclaimed as she pressed one hand to her forehead and closed her eyes in irritation. "Just come with, okay?"When she opened them again, she noticed he was looking at her, a smirk on his face.

"Okay," he replied smugly, "since you're insisting."

After their abbreviated shift came to a close, Lucy drove home. Tim followed, and they rode together in his truck to her first lead on an apartment. It was a smaller complex, a little more rundown than her current place, and was a sublet instead of a traditional lease. She thought she could make it work if she needed to, but Tim vetoed it almost immediately. He did the same with the second, third, and fourth options, citing all sorts of reasons. Some of his criticisms were legitimate, but some were reaches. Others she disagreed with outright. At the fifth apartment, he pulled her away from the landlord and whispered through clenched teeth, "That guy looks like he'll put a hidden cameras in your shower the second you move in."

He wasn't wrong (she'd felt the leer he shot her way the second her back turned), but she replied in the man's defense, "For all you know, he's a perfectly nice person."

Tim shrugged, unfazed. "I'm just saying, you shouldn't live here."

"Well, I've gotta live somewhere," she hissed, careful to keep her voice down so the landlord didn't hear their disagreement. "You have tried to get me to turn down every single place we've looked at. You said 'no' to one apartment because of the crown molding."

"I'm not sorry about that. Who does orange crown molding?"

She laughed quietly at his comment, having thought the same this morning when reviewing the listing, but remained firm on her overall point. "Look, Tim. I can't afford to be too picky, all right?" Her budget was small and, thanks to a few late payments on her student loans, her credit was absolute shit. She had neither the room nor the resources to be as particular as he wanted her to be. "All I'm looking for is a roof that doesn't leak and walls that keep out most of my neighbors' noises."

"Okay, okay," he acquiesced, then peered around the bedroom. The walls had received a fresh coat of flat white paint, but the blinds were dingy and smoke-stained. It wasn't a very nice room. Hell, it wasn't a very nice apartment, period. It smelled faintly of weed and had neither carpeting or hardwood flooring. Instead, yellow tile ran throughout and neither Lucy nor Tim could tell whether it was that color originally, or if it faded through age and a lack of care. "Honestly, though, is this one is it?"

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "No way. This place is a nightmare and the landlord iscreepy," she whispered conspiratorially, then nodded towards the door. "Let's get the hell out of here."

That was the last apartment on Lucy's list. With no other options to pursue for now, they headed back towards her home.

"Well," Tim said to her as they drove, "if worse comes to worse, you can always live with your parents, right?"

She snickered, but it was joyless. "So I can hear about why I'm disappointing them morning, noon, and night, in excruciating detail? Not likely. Besides, I haven't spoken to them since before Christmas."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say they weren't thrilled that I worked Christmas Day."

"Oh." Tim's frown had fallen, an expression of guilt crossing his face as he told her, "Wish you'd said something. If I'd known-"

"- You would've traded back?" She shook her head. "We both know you wouldn't have, and you shouldn't have, either. It's better that people with kids got to have that time at home."

"Still, it sucks that that happened."

Lucy tried to shrug it off. "It was a long time coming. My parents didn't want me to join the academy. If not then, we would've come to verbal blows sooner or later over it. So no, I can't go live with my parents, but if it really comes down to it, I'm sure I could crash with Nolan for a few days."

He scoffed almost instantly. "I think I'd rather see you homeless than living with Nolan."

"Wow.Wow." She figured he was joking, but it was still a sort of harsh thing to say about someone she considered a close friend. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"I like him just fine," Tim contradicted quickly. "He's okay, once you get passed the whole 'golly gee, Boy Scout', thing."

"Tim," she said, her tone warning.

"Fine. Fine," he backed down with sigh. "I'll try to be nicer to the guy."

"Thank you."

"… After work, I mean. I have my limits."

"Fair enough," Lucy conceded with a laugh.

She had no luck with her search on the first day, but she tried to keep her chin up, a task that became marginally harder when she made no progress over the next five days. Day six turned up a promising lead, but that fell through too after the leasing office ran her credit and found her just two points beneath their minimum limit. She was glad Tim hadn't offered to join her that day; being denied over bad credit was humiliating enough. Having it happen in front of him would've only multiplied her embarrassment. By the time they finished two weeks of night shifts (and following one unfortunate instance of sleeping on the job, resulting in her newly-awoken face appearing on t-shirts and as Tim's phone background), she was feeling pretty hopeless. She hoped Tim was kidding about how he'd rather see her homeless than living with Nolan, because that fallback was looking more and more certain every day that passed without a new lease.

Lucy could feel the worry start to creep in, so she was careful to re-center her focus frequently, concentrating on what she could control rather than what she could not. She could not force the right apartment to appear, but she could be diligent in looking, and in between searches, she gave her all towards progressing as an officer. Each day brought new lessons, and this -her first back on the day shift- was no different. After a rather complicated call concerning stolen embryos and threats of violence, she and Tim booked in two women; one for theft, one for domestic assault. They put them in separate holding cells, then Lucy commented to Tim, "It doesn't seem right to lock up Marilyn, too. She was only trying to protect her embryos."

"Domestic violence laws are strict for a reason, Boot," he said as they walked towards the bullpen. "She committed assault. Motive is irrelevant."

She thought back to a conversation they had had just that morning. During the briefing, Sergeant Grey had informed the officers of complaints about police entitlement, and discussed the harm related to officers taking what they were not owed. Tim had spoken out against a hard-line policy, even though he and Lucy never received a single freebie, privately telling her why as they went on patrol. "Whatever happened to 'circumstances dictate actions'?"

"Cemeteries are filled with people who'd still be alive if cops hooked up their spouses the second he or she laid hands. Blanket rules are bullshit for some things, but not this one."

She had to admit, she liked this answer from him. "That is a very enlightened stance, sir."

He cocked an eyebrow. "You seem surprised."

She grinned cheekily. "Sir, you surprise me every day."

The hint of a blush crept into his cheeks, but that was the only giveaway that her words -half a compliment, half a tease- had affected him at all. His face remained coolly impassive as he ordered her to go fill up the shop, but she caught a glimpse of his smirk as he turned away from her.

She headed out to do as he asked and soon caught up to Nolan, himself having just come to the station from being on patrol with Talia.

"How's it going?" he asked. "How's apartment hunting?"

"Still no luck," she replied dourly. "How are you?"

"Interesting day," he answered, sighing a deep breath as they walked. "Found a dead body at the Langston on Wilshire. Still not used to that."

Lucy was familiar with the apartments in the building he referenced. They were nice, but had no availability when she checked; if the body he and Bishop had found belonged to a renter… "How was it?"

"Uh, gross? Guy took a bullet right through his eye. I'm still a little queasy-"

"No, uh," she scrambled to redirect before he could say more, "not that. How was the apartment?"

"Um… kind of upscale for a gang member…" Nolan's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, are you asking for you?"

She gave a small shrug. "The building manager has to say if someone was died in the apartment," Lucy explained. "Might mean a break in the rent."

"Sort of an underhanded way to find a place to live, no?"

The insinuation -hell, it was closer to an accusation- made her bristle. "Underhanded?"

Nolan's face blanched as he realized he insulted her. "Not underhanded. I didn't mean that. Just-"

"I've been looking for an apartment for two weeks," she interrupted. "The traditional way of doing things isn't working out, and we can't all live in guest houses belonging to our college besties." She regretted being short with him as soon as the retort flew out of her mouth, but before she could apologize, he did.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," she said. "I'm glad Ben is helping you."

He winced. "Is that really how you view it?"

"Isn't that what it is?" she asked, and again felt remorseful over allowing such a low blow. "No offense, but didn't that play a part in you deciding where you ended up after your divorce?"

"Yeah… yeah, I guess you're right." Nolan replied just as Talia walked up to him.

"Let's go, Boot," she said to him. "Captain wants to see us."

He said goodbye and they parted ways. She continued on to the garage where she put gas into the shop as instructed. A few minutes later, Tim met her and they got back on the road. While patrolling, she brought up the potential apartment lead to him.

"Look, uh… circumstance dictate actions, right?" she started nervously. He nodded. "So, is it underhanded for a cop to offer to rent an apartment they know is a crime scene?"

"What kind of crime scene are we talking about here?" he hedged.

She responded by mumbling, "A murder."

"A what?"

"A murder," she repeated clearer.

Tim looked perplexed and a little disgusted as he asked, "You want to live in a murder apartment?"

"No, I don'twantto," Lucy explained, "but I would if I have to." When he made a sound like disagreement, she insisted, "The Langston on Wilshire is nice, Tim!"

"Except for that murder."

"… The Langston on Wilshire isotherwisenice, Tim!" she smartly amended. When he scoffed, she added, "What? I said nice, not perfect."

They weren't on their beat long before Captain Andersen called them back to the station. It turned out Nolan and Bishop's murder victim was connected to a gang and its illicit activities, and their involvement so far had nearly exposed an officer that had been working undercover in La Eme. Ortiz, the officer, had intel that at least a million in drug money would be going out that night, and it was decided that they would raid the safe house to prevent that from happening. Each of the TOs prepared their rookies for the raid, with Tim assigning Lucy the job of breaching. He handed her the ram outside the armory.

"You know the specs of this equipment, Officer Chen?"

She nodded. "Blackhawk Dynamic Entry Special Op Ram."

"How much does it weight?"

"Sixty pounds."

"Good. You'll be the breacher."

The rest of the evening was spent in prep, with every aspect from location to gear reviewed twice. They lined the patrol cars at the opposite end of the street of the house they were raiding, well out of the line of sight, and crept down the road as quietly as possible.

By now, Lucy was used to some anxiety on the job, but this was something else. Everything seemed intensified; the air crisper, her breath louder, even the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears seemed more defined. Without losing focus, her senses were heightened enough that she noticed the surreptitious details. A broken link in a fence. A man walking toward a car, carrying a duffel and wearing alligator boots. A buzzing bulb of a streetlamp.

The raid went seamlessly. Lucy breached the door with a single strike, and everyone filed in after her, guns high. She was one of the last into the house and apprehended a gang member trying to hide in a closet. Most of the others had already been caught by the rest of the team. Before long, the criminals were cuffed and the second half of the op began; cataloging and clearing out the evidence, the largest piece being one-million dollars in cash for which a separate team was being called in to handle.

Lucy, Nolan, and Jackson were led to the room where the pallet holding the cash sat, and were given strict orders about conduct while they stood watch. Two people with the money at all times. No selfies, and no leaving until the money counters and videographer arrived to hand-off the scene. Left on their own, there was not much to do to fill the time, so they talked. First, they wondered where the money would go. It was Jackson who informed the other two that it went back into narcotics. Lucy was the first to pose hypotheticals; what she'd do if she'd suddenly come into an amount of money this large. Her wishes at first were frivolous and silly; a helicopter to avoid all of Los Angeles' legendary traffic, a first-class trip to Monaco. Nolan only had ideas on whatnotto do, and Jackson was hesitant to play the game at all. By the beginning of the second hour, he'd loosened up, and at that point, Lucy was being more practical with her imaginary fortune. She'd pay off her student loans. Pay off her parents' house, and find a nice apartment with plenty of room and lots of natural light. She thought about her dismal credit score, her smallish bank account. Sitting in front of a million dollars… it's not that she was tempted, but it was impossible not to wish, not to wonder.

When the money counters finally arrived (at one am; Bishop hadn't been kidding when she said they ran on their own schedules), Lucy looked at Nolan and Jackson.

"We might never see this much money again," she said. It was almost beyond belief to her that this much money existed and would just be funneled back into narcotics operations. Her own circumstances aside, a million dollars could help so many people; so many in the communities they policed could have their lives changes by just a fraction of this cash.

Nolan, who misunderstood what she was saying but meant well nonetheless, clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Don't worry. If there's ever another raid and they need someone to sit and wait until the wee hours of the morning, I know who they'll ask."

Lucy had to drag herself to bed that night. After two weeks of night shifts, working a raid her first day back on a regular schedule was not ideal. She'd stopped at the couch on her way to her room, and that was a mistake. She ended up snoozing there for an hour or two, completely clothed, and had a crick in her neck when she rose around four o'clock and hauled herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She was back (or rather, finally in) bed shortly after that, and fell asleep quickly, only to be woken well before her alarm to the sound of her phone ringing.

She wasn't due at work until noon and had hoped to wring every possible moment of sleep out of that morning, but whoever was calling had other plans. Lucy fumbled for the phone without opening her eyes, and when it clattered to the floor, she followed it down, where she landed on the carpet with a thud.

"Ow," she groaned into the phone as she answered.

"Lucy?"

"Tim?" she replied groggily. "What's going on?"

"Are you still sleeping?"

A glance at her phone's screen showed it wasn't even nine. "My shift doesn't start until noon."

"Captain wants to see us. You have to come in now."

"Now?"

She heard a fist pound at the front door. Three rhythmic raps, followed by his voice saying, "Now".

She jumped to her feet, ran out of her room, and froze. It was silly of her to feel self-conscious, but she hated that he was seeing her fresh out of bed, and there was a sort of silly moment where she was torn between putting on a bra or brushing her teeth. Teeth won out, and she yelled toward the door, "I'll be right there" before brushing quickly, then grabbing a hoodie from her top drawer and wresting it onto her body as she went to let him in.

He looked her over once after she answered. "Did you just wake up?"

She shot him a withering glare. "I had a late night," she replied, then headed back towards her room. He followed behind apace. "The money counters came late, we still had to get back to the station to fill out the paperwork and change," she said as she rifled through her drawers and hastily selected a presentable outfit. "I didn't get home until after two, I think. Or was it three? I'm not sure." Then she looked back at Tim. He was still in the doorway, leaning against the jamb as he listened to her talk and watched her choose her clothes. She cleared her throat as she grabbed the doorknob. "Can you back up?"

"What?"

"… You're gonna need to leave for this part, Bradford."

It took him a moment, but he finally realized that she was trying to get dressed, and he was in the way of her privacy. "Oh, shit," he muttered and backed away. She shut the door, having every intention of dressing hurriedly, and… well, she was only human. Her emotions were everywhere already, so she figured she could be forgiven for getting a little nervous at the thought of her soulmate on the other side of the door as she stripped off her pajamas, but now was not the time for letting those thoughts progress any farther. She pushed them out of her mind as best she could, but still felt a little flushed once she had finished dressing and opened the door.

Tim had driven to her apartment in a patrol vehicle; she followed behind in her car, and fortunately they made it to the station in record time. Lucy noticed that Jackson was waiting in the briefing room with Lopez. Like her, he was in plainclothes. She wondered why neither of them had been instructed to change into their uniforms, and what they were waiting for. Not long after she and Tim arrived, Nolan and Talia joined them, and it was she that voiced the question the rest of them had been thinking.

"What's going on?" Talia asked Tim when she and Nolan arrived.

He couldn't give an answer. "They told us to gather our Boots. Lopez?"

Angela shrugged. "Beats me," she replied, then glanced at all the rookies. Lucy guessed that she had an idea of what had happened, but was playing it close to the vest.

They didn't need to wait long to find out why they'd been gathered. Within minutes, Captain Andersen and Sergeant Grey entered the room. Both of them appeared grim.

"Money counters say they came up short last night," the Captain said. "They're missing two-hundred fifty thousand dollars."

Lucy gulped as her gaze leveled all the rookies, scanning their faces for tells following the bombshell.

"You three were the only ones left alone with the money." Where the Captain had stopped short of accusing, Sergeant Grey completed the picture, confirming what Lucy had, in the seconds following, begun to fear; the money went missing while three of them were responsible for it. Therefore, they were implicated in the theft.

There was silence as they each absorbed this news. Lucy felt Tim's eyes on her face, watching her silently as she took this in. She hadn't taken the money, hadn't even touched it despite all her hypotheticals spoken aloud so carelessly. None of them had. Surely the rest of them knew that.

Nolan was the only one of the three rookies who responded to the Sergeant. "The money counters must have made a mistake," he posed, naively.

There had been no mistake. Intel was certain it a million dollars were at the house, but a quarter of it had gone missing and was completely unaccounted for. There was video of the counters entering the garage to relieve the three of them. Even though they could all vouch for one another, the word of their fellow probationary officers would not be enough. They would each have to submit to and pass a polygraph.

"Now, I can't make you take one," Andersen said. "It would have to be voluntary."

Lucy picked up on the undertone quickly. Either they took the polygraph, or they risked their job. Hell, their jobs were at risk anyway, and over something they had not done. She and the others had nothing to lose by agreeing.

She glanced back at Tim as she walked away, catching his eyes only briefly. He couldn't say anything, and he could do even less, but a slight nod of his head was enough to encourage her as she followed Jackson and Nolan out.

To her relief, Lucy passed the polygraph. They all did, but it wasn't exactly a feat worth celebrating. They were police officers. Honesty was in the job description, and even though the polygraph didn't incriminate them, the money was still missing. They weren't cleared of wrongdoing, and were instructed by Captain Andersen to go home pending further investigation. Nolan offered his house up for hanging out in, but she declined.

"I should probably keep looking for an apartment," she said as she begged off, remembering the place Nolan had mentioned the day before. She was almost to the garage when Tim caught up with her.

"It's going to be okay," he said to her with no prompting.

"Is it?" she asked, unsure. "Because I passed a polygraph and I still might get fired."

"That's not gonna happen," he replied.

"You can't promise that. They're investigating us. They're going to find everything."

"So?"

"'So'? I'mbroke,"she bit out. "I'm being evicted. My credit is awful. They'll take one look at that and consider it motive."

Tim tried to calm her down, but the best he could offer was, "All of that is circumstantial."

"Not if the money doesn't turn up. Tim, this could end my career."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, okay? No one thinks you took it." he said as they reached her car. "Me and Bishop and Lopez, we're going to keep looking. You just stay calm and focus on… I don't know, whatever it is you're about to go do. I assume you're going back to bed?"

"I wish." She could use a nap; she certainly deserved one, at least. "I'm going to go try to check out the murder apartment."

"You know, if you get it, we're gonna have to call it something else."

"What? You don't like 'murder apartment'? It makes me feel like I'm on Buzzfeed Unsolved," she replied, a thin attempt to inject a little levity into the conversation that didn't really work, as she felt pretty damn low at the moment. He didn't react to the title, instead indicating that he didn't know which show she was referencing. "Seriously? Wow, I have so much to show you," she decided as he opened the door for her.

"Good luck," he said.

"Yeah," she replied. "Yeah. You too."

Maybe it was because he was the one that had wished her luck, but finally,finallyLucy managed a breakthrough on an apartment. The property manager of the Langston had a single opening, he said, but it was currently being cleaned. He had a model floor plan he could take her through, but would allow her to lease the available place sight unseen for a two-hundred dollar break a month for the first year, no security deposit, and no credit pull. She had been hoping for just such a deal, but held back on her enthusiasm until she toured the sample apartment under his nervous stare. She played at being dispassionate until she'd viewed every room, then turned to him with a half-shrug and said, "I guess this will work." The manager's relief was palpable at her agreement. She signed the lease and was handed keys before leaving, with a promise that the apartment would be ready for her to move in by the end of the week.

At last, a win, and a well-deserved one.

She was excited to call Tim, but waited until she was out of view of the leasing office before dialing his number and putting him on speaker.

"I got the apartment!" she exclaimed when he answered.

"The murder one?"

"Yep."

"Uh, congratulations, I guess?"

"Thanks!' Although not enough time had passed for their search to have turned up any results, Lucy still had to ask, "How's it going?"

Tim had nothing to say to that point, and hesitated before revealing, "Can't tell you much, Boot."

She understood and didn't press it; it was likely he couldn't say more, both because the investigation was active and it involved her personally.

"I guess I'll let you get back to it," she replied, then said goodbye. After they'd hung up, she dialed Nolan's number. He put her on speaker so that Jackson could hear, too. "You know," she began, "if they don't find the money, we're all fucked." Nolan agreed, but she didn't hear much more that was said as a rapidly approaching black SUV caught her attention in the rearview mirror. "What is this guy doing?" she said aloud, just before he rammed into her car's bumper. "Someone just hit me!"

"What?" Nolan and Jackson exclaimed.

"It's like he's trying to run me off the road!"

"Where are you?"

"Griffith Park Drive, just passed Mineral Wells Trail," she said, then slammed on her brakes at the sight of two more SUVs blocking the road. Her cell phone slid to the floor out of her reach, and she only had enough time to grab her off duty weapon from the passenger seat before she emerged from her car and had no choice but to begin firing. She shot out two windows before the men in the SUVs could fire back, at which point she ducked for cover behind a rock. One more shot in their direction, then she ran off up the hill. She only had the one cartridge and couldn't outlast a standoff before help arrived, anddear God, she hoped Nolan had called for help. Her best shot at surviving was to put distance between her and her attackers, and fast. The brush provided camouflage and sparse cover, but she needed to stay on the move. In her haste, she fell a few times, resulting in cuts on the palms of her hands that stung but did not slow her down. She heard sirens in the distance and felt hopeful; if that was her help, she just needed to hold on a little longer, she thought as she ran, and ran—

—And ran into the edge of the property, her way barred by a chain-link fence.

Shit. She couldn't climb it. Too tall. It was sturdy, so she couldn't breach it. Lucy turned to run again, and was met with the barrel of a gun.

"Drop your gun," ordered the tallest of the three men, gesturing to the ground with his gun when she hesitated.

She placed her weapon next to her feet before slowly rising. "What do you want?"

The man shot her a look like she was dumb. "The money you stole."

Her heart dropped. "You're with La Eme?" she asked.

He sneered at her. "And you're with the LAPD," he said, then spouted off her full name and address with equal venom. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering how I know all of that. Damn near everything's on the net. I know you were guarding our money when two hundred-fifty Gs went missing. I know your building is being torn down. I know your credit is shit. You need cash, more than the other two jokers with you last night." He cocked the gun, then said, "Where is our money?"

She stammered through a dry throat, "I don't have it."

He lowered his weapon, but didn't holster it, keeping it ready at his side. "Lying to me, huh? That tells me two things; either you're stupid, or you think you're tough. Which is it?" She didn't answer, just set her jaw and glared him down until he grinned evilly. "It's like that, huh? Andres," he turned to the man at his left. "Cut up the tough girl a little."

At his order, the man named Andres approached, a switchblade in his hand. She quickly knocked him down, but it meant nothing when the third, unnamed man knocked her back. She fell and scurried away from the trio, scrabbling backwards until she connected with the fence. Again, the adrenaline from the night before made her take everything in. She smelled the dust from the ground, felt every link in the rusting fence at her back, saw the leader's alligator shoes as he took another step in her direction. Where had she seen those before?

She placed the shoes -and the face- just in time.

"I saw you," she said, realization saving her skin for at least a moment longer, for as long as this pause lasted.

"What?" he growled.

"You were outside the house before we raided it. You were wearing those boots and carrying a duffel bag." The two attackers, his underlings, exchanged a look behind his back as Lucy continued speaking. "Someone tipped you off. You took the money before we even got there. You thought no one would notice."

His sneer twisted as he chuckled. For a moment, she thought she'd guessed wrong, and her blood ran cold until he turned with his gun raised and shot Andres, then at the other man, who dodged the bullet as he ran off into the brush.

Before he could pursue him, Lucy saw her opportunity and lunged, kicking his legs out from under him and trying to wrestle the gun away. She was not successful, and the man fought back, overcoming her quickly due to his size. She barely registered the sound of gunshots in the distance as his fingers closed around her throat. For a minute, she flailed blindly, before latching onto his fingers and bending them back far and hard enough she could land a solid head-butt that knocked him back. It felt like her brain rattled in her skull, but she ignored the growing headache as she pushed him down and sat on his back with her knee between he shoulder blades just as Nolan came into view.

"Cuffs," she barked. He placed a pair in her open palm, and she clasped them over the attacker's wrists before asking, "What took you so long?"

He stammered for an answer, but she grinned. "I'm kidding, Nolan," she said with a smirk, then stood. "Get him would you? I'm dizzy." Then she picked up her gun before following them down the mountain, keeping her weapon trained on his back the entire walk.

By the time they descended, the cavalry had arrived, and Jackson was putting the other of her attackers into the back of a patrol vehicle. EMTs had come as well, and she directed them up the hill to take care of the man who had been shot. Tim was there too, and he stepped out of the shop as she came into view, concern plain on his face. He didn't walk, butrantowards Lucy, skidding on the gravel as he came to a stop just a few feet shy of colliding with her. His hands twitched at his sides as he examined her from a short distance, and his jaw clenched as he noticed the cuts on her palms and the red mark blooming on her forehead.

"Looks like he got you a little bit, Boot," he noted.

She gingerly pressed the bruise near her hairline. "Actually, I got him. Head-butt."

"Seriously?"

"I'll try not to be offended that you sound surprised," she retorted.

"Not surprised. Impressed," he corrected her, then asked, "No other injuries though, right? You're okay?"

Lucy nodded and tried not to seem too touched by his concern (even though she was). "Yeah. I'm okay," she replied, then walked toward her car. He followed and crouched beside her as they examined her car's rear fender. The frame seemed to have held up, but the bumper was smashed in pretty good.

Tim chuckled as she pouted over the damage. "Guess I'm calling Dennis again."

Just like that, the investigation was closed, and she, Jackson, and Nolan were officially permitted back to work the following day. She was personally congratulated for cracking the case, and for bravely standing off against three gangsters by herself; to be honest, the only thing better than receiving praise from the Sergeant was having Tim beside her as he tried and ultimately failed to conceal his pride.

Her new landlord made good on their deal, and Lucy was permitted to enter the apartment at the Langston a few days later. He'd moved out the furniture and had the place cleaned, but despite the maid service's best efforts, there was a decent-sized bloodstain on the floor in the center of the living room. It was a good thing she came armed with cleaning supplies, and she had just sat down to start dabbing at the stain with a mixture of water and baking soda when she heard a knock at the door. She glanced down at her watch; Jackson had said he'd come over, but he wasn't due to arrive for another thirty minutes at least. Just in case, she picked up her off-duty weapon before calling cautiously, "Who is it?"

"It's Tim."

She put the gun aside and grinned as she answered the door. "Stalking me Bradford? How'd you even find this place?"

"Easy. I looked at the police report," he replied. "Can I come in?" She nodded and let him pass, noticing he carried a blue Best Buy bag in his left hand. As he entered, he looked her new apartment over, judging it with the same scrutiny he had employed at the others.

"Not bad, Chen. Not bad at all." His gaze landed on the stain, and he grimaced. "Yikes. Maybe put the couch right there."

She snickered, then pointed to the bag. "What's in there?"

"Oh this?" He held it up. "Housewarming present."

"Really?"

Tim opened the bag to reveal a small home security system. "After the week you've had, I've decided that you are a lightning rod for trouble, and this," he drummed his fingers on the box, "will help me sleep at night."

Lucy chuckled. "So really you bought a gift for you?"

"It's sort of a multi-purpose present," he admitted, then asked, "Want me to get it set up for you?"

She reached for the box. "You don't have to do that. I can just ask Nolan to do it."

He held it tight and scowled. "Should I feel insulted that you keep trying to ask Nolan to do things when I've already offered?"

"What?" She chuckled, but her laugh didn't mask that she was confused by his question. "Insulted? He's my friend."

"I know."

"And that bothers you? That he's my friend?"

"No, it's not that," he said, then hesitantly pointed at her left wrist. "It's that."

Her fingers covered the clock face of Nolan's watch. "What's wrong with my watch?"

"It's not the watch. It's what it means."

"Okay. I'm officially confused."

He sighed. "I'm bad at this," Tim whispered, then took a deep breath and tried again. "Can I be honest?"

"… Sure."

"Talia mentioned a while ago why you wear the watch."

Although Lucy herself had once told Tim it was previously Nolan's, she had never shared specifics surrounding how it came into her possession with anyone else. She was a little stunned to learn Talia had this knowledge (likely from Nolan), and equally surprised that she'd passed it on to Tim at some point. It wasn't out of character for Nolan to overshare personal details, but Bishop was typically more guarded, even more so than Angela; she wouldn't have mentioned it to Tim without a reason, and that reason was not readily apparent to Lucy.

Her shock must have registered on her face, because Tim quickly added, "Look, all that's fine. I don't blame you for covering your timer after the way I treated you. It's not like I gave you much of a choice, right?" he said, huffing a sad laugh with a shake of his head. "I know you had to rely on Nolan a lot when we first met, and I regret it now."

After a moment, Lucy smiled coyly, "Tim, are you trying to apologize?"

He returned her smile with small one of his own. "Like I said, I'm bad at this."

She giggled. "So I see. You know you have to actually say 'I'm sorry' for it to count as an apology, right?"

"I was working up to it," he replied, then said earnestly, "I'm sorry."

She accepted his apology, and added, "I forgave you a long time ago, but it's still nice to hear. Thank you."

He nodded. "You're welcome." Then, he asked as he tapped the alarm box again, "So… am I setting this up or not?"

Lucy laughed and replied, "Sure. Thanks."

He turned away to start, but paused before he got far. "There's just one more thing," he said, and with an even gaze, told her, "You have more than Nolan and West in your corner now, okay? Just remember that."

She assured him she would.

Chapter 20: Friends (Of a Sort)

Notes:

"You and I are standing at the edge of a cliff looking over
Forever is a long way off
I wish that I could make the earth move a little slower
Forever won't be long enough"
"Nobody but You", Cody Fry

Chapter Text

"I don't see why you have to usemytruck."

It wasn't like Lucy had begged Tim to help her move. As he carried his third armful of boxes containing her belongings down the stairs, he seemed to have forgotten that he'd volunteered at the mere mention of Nolan's name when she'd discussed her moving plans with Jackson. She wasn't even the one who'd mentioned it; Jackson had as they cleaned the carpet, and Tim, having entered the living room after he'd finished installing the alarm system, interrupted in a snap. She didn't need to ask Nolan, he'd said, and offered up his truck and next available day before Lucy could say another word. His firm stance on the matter, as helpful as it was overbearing, made Jackson shoot her a look; a knowing smirk with a wag of his eyebrows. She hadn't said anything in response to either man, but now that moving day had come, Tim could not stop grousing.

She was a few steps behind him and was herself carrying a lamp and a trash bag filled with clothes. "Hey, you offered," she replied, althoughinsistedwas probably more accurate. "And you said you're in my corner, right? Not just Jackson and Nolan?"

He huffed. "If I'd known you'd use my words against me-"

The threat was left unfinished as she interjected, "-That's the danger of making promises without weighing the cost."

"What promise?" he asked just as they reached the ground floor and walked toward his truck. "When did I make a promise?"

"It was implied," she said as he stacked his armful in the back, then reached for the items she was carrying. This was the last round they'd be able to fit into the truck bed this trip. After this, all that was left was her couch and her bed. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel was in sight, and not a moment too soon. She was on the last week of her current lease and most other renters in her building had already moved out.

"You and I have very different interpretations of what constitutes a promise," Tim replied as he gingerly set the lamp on its side, then walked around to the passenger side door and opened it for her. She tried not to fixate on the gesture -opening the door for her- as she climbed into the seat, but it was something he'd been doing more of lately. The little things that he had started doing only recently confirmed how far they'd come.

They were on the road to her new place when Tim spoke again.

"Listen," he began unsteadily, "we're sort of friends now, right?"

She thought so, but teased, "Your use of 'sort of' instills so much confidence."

"You know what I'm saying."

"Yes, we're friends," Lucy answered, adding, "I guess," just to be difficult.

"Youguess?"

"See?" Now, she had to chuckle. "Doesn't feel good, does it?"

Yes, they were friends, of a sort. It was easier to leave the lines blurry than to try to define in stricter terms whatever they were now. They were not dating, and hadn't even broached that particular subject at all. Neither had a clue whether that would happen or when, but there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between them that that sort of relationship was in their future somewhere farther down the line. It was accurate to call them friends, even if it was ultimately an incomplete depiction; and for goodness sake,Lucy thought to herself, it had taken them long enough to reach even that level.

"And you know I just want the best for you with the job, right?"

Circling back to work after remarking on their friendship made her feel a little uneasy. Normally, he at least pretended to keep the two separate. Now he was intentionally entwining them. She asked, "What's going on?"

"Nothing." His answer was short and quick, which only made her more suspicious.

"No. Nope." She shook her head dismissively. "You don't get to be ominous with me. What's going on?"

He only hesitated a moment or two before telling her, "Something is happening tomorrow. Just," a glance over her way, but he avoided her eyes, "remember I'm on your side, okay? Even though it's probably not going to look like it."

She was given no more to go on, but found out what he was referencing early into their shift the next morning. Captain Andersen had joined their team in the briefing room. Not unheard of, but uncommon enough that it made everyone sit up straighter and play closer attention. The Captain congratulated the rookies for having made it thus far in their training, then declared that the training officers would not be guiding their ways that day.

Jackson understood immediately, and turned to the other two to crow, "Plain Clothes Day."

The Captain smiled. "That's right, Officer West."

"What is plain clothes day?" Lucy asked.

It was explained to her and Nolan by Sergeant Grey. Plain clothes day was a routine evaluation that all rookies experienced. The training officers would ride along with the rookies, but out of uniform. They would be in charge of how the day went. For all intents and purposes, it would be like riding alone. It was a test, but informal, and no grades would be issued. Having withstood dozens of "Tim Tests" by now, Lucy felt well-prepared for her day in charge. She didn't understand why he'd seemed so uncertain when they talked about it. Of course she knew he wanted what was best for her when it came to the job. That he'd felt the need to specify it, to remind her ahead of time left her confused.

Then her plain clothes day went as poorly as was possible, and she understood.

Lucy saw later that she had psyched herself out, so set was she on doing well and impressing Tim. She failed to secure the vehicle belonging to a repeat sex-offender. It was a mistake that Tim corrected behind her back, and he gave her a thorough dressing-drown when they returned to the scene to find the vehicle missing. After that point, she never got out of her own head, and it affected her handling of a verbal altercation involving two neighbors and a noisy dog. In the heat of the moment, she made a threat to the dog's owner, declaring she would make him her personal project if she heard even a rumor of animal abuse occurring after she left. Before long, she was called back to the station and warned that her actions that day had jeopardized her career. Although a series of misfortunes contributed to absolving her, she would not soon forget the look on Captain Andersen's face as she came down on Lucy hard, and rightly so.

"If you ever let this job down again," the Captain warned, the blend of her anger and disappointment evident in her glare and deep frown, "I will not hesitate to put you on a career path far away from the LAPD. Do you understand, Officer Chen?"

Lucy, standing at silent attention with her hands folded behind her back and her head lowered, nodded without a word.

"Good. You are dismissed. Officer Bradford. Your turn."

Tim waited until she'd left the room to walk through the door. As they passed each other, his hand briefly brushed against hers. The touch was small and insignificant enough that Lucy couldn't tell if it was by accident or intentional.

Her lecture had lasted only a minute. Tim's was much longer, and the Captain seemed equally stern as she laid into him. Lucy could not hear what was said, but when Tim was excused from her office, he showed no sign of anger or disappointment, which… didn't seem to line up with what had just occurred.

Lucy asked him, "Are you mad at me?"

He paused before answering. "No. Or at least, I'm not now." Then he looked at her and said pointedly, "You realize how lucky you got today?"

Again, she had no response, only a wordless nod of acknowledgement.

"What were you thinking?" he asked.

Lucy's gaze fell to her feet before she admitted in a whisper, "You're going to think it's dumb."

"Try me."

She hesitated just a moment longer before confessing, "I was thinking I wanted to impress you, okay? This was my day to be in charge, and I just wanted to do well." She looked up at him shyly, and he was sort of laughing at her, which made her feel low and defensive. "Like I said, it's dumb."

"I didn't say that," he told her. "I don't blame you for wanting to impress me."

"You don't?"

"Of course not. I'm great."

She chuckled despite herself, even though tears stung her eyes. "And so humble, too."

He let her wipe her tears before saying, "You saved my life the second day on the job." Lucy hardly needed reminded. The day he was shot was one she'd never forget; of that, she was sure. "You went up against three members of La Eme by yourself. You delivered a baby during a raid." True, little Theresa Lucille may have been her crowning achievement. She doubted she'd ever top that moment, and it was sweet of Tim to both remember and mention it. "You don't have to try so hard to impress me, Chen," he finished, his tone fond and filled with pride. "I've been impressed for a while."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said, but added a caveat. "Just don't think that that means I'm going to lighten up on you. You've kicked ass on this job, but all that means is I know what you can do. I will never expect less of you than I know you are capable of, and I know you're capable of more than what you showed me today. So… put it behind you and determine to do better tomorrow." Then, he produced a folded manilla envelope from his back pocket and handed it to her. "Here. I wrote you an evaluation. Thought you'd like to see it."

She hesitantly took the envelope. "I feel like I'm gonna hate this."

"Just read it."

Lucy opened the envelope slowly. Inside was one sheet of white printer paper. In Tim's own handwriting, a single sentence had been written, which she read aloud.

"Officer Chen second-guessed every decision she made today," she quoted, then looked up at him, perplexed. This was hardly an evaluation; hell, it wasn't even new information. Her tendency to second-guess was well-documented in every aspect of her life, not just work. Putting it down in writing seemed like a waste of paper, and she couldn't figure out his angle in noting it.

"It was accurate right until the end. Then, you followed your gut and got a murderer put away." He took back the letter and crumpled it up. "Now I have to rewrite the damn thing."

She was glad to see the evaluation destroyed, even if it was only a few words long, and happier still that he harbored no anger against her for all her shortcomings that day. "I guess I should buy you a drink or something after what I put you through."

"I don't need you to make it up to me," he replied, but then agreed, "A drink's a good start, though."

They parted so Lucy could change out of her uniform, then met outside the locker room to catch up with the others at the food truck circle by the south gate. Lucy quickly fell in with her fellow rookies, whereas Tim stuck by Angela and Talia. About an hour later, after she and her friends had finished their first drinks, she walked up to Tim holding a manila envelope of her own. Inside it, she had put the bar tabs belonging to her, Nolan, and Jackson, which she handed to Tim and called her "evaluation" of him. Then, she returned to her table and encouraged the other two to run before he could realize what she'd done. As they retreated, she could hear Lopez and Bishop laugh, and she made it to her car before Tim texted her.

What happened to buying me a drink?

She grinned as she shot back.I said I'd buy you a drink. I didn't say when.After a pause, she hastily typed out,Are you free tomorrow night?

She tried not to freak out about it, but… well, she was nervous. Just a little. Sure, they'd started hanging out more often, and he was doing domestic things for her like helping her move and setting up her home alarm system. He'd even volunteered for the task of changing her air filters when she moved in, simply because he saw her struggling to reach them without a step-stool. This was more than that. It didn't have the excuse of helping. It would be seeing each other simply for the sake of seeing each other. They'd so far not done that, having always had a reason to be in each other's company before.

He didn't say anything for long enough that she began to think she'd made a mistake by asking. Then, Lucy laughed. She was doing exactly what he'd complained about in his evaluation, with every decision weighed, measured, and dissected rather than trusting herself and her instincts. A drink between "sort of friends"? They were more than ready for that. She tossed her phone into her bag and left for home. Her phone chimed with a text alert as she pulled into the parking lot.

She'd been afraid he'd say no. The last time she'd asked him to get a drink with her, he'd declined. Not this time though. Tonight, he said yes.

Tonight, he saidI'm free right now.

She feared meeting up would be a little awkward, but it wasn't it. It was nice, and surprisingly low-key. It was probably for the best that they got their drink now. If they waited, she would've had the chance to overthink it. If they'd waited, she would've spun it into a bigger thing than it needed to be. Because she joined him at Stoli's only a few minutes after he texted, she didn't have the time to worry or stress out. When he looked up as she entered, she only felt happy to see him, then blushed as she noticed the hitch in his breath, an imperceptible stutter she wouldn't have noticed unless she were specifically looking for it. The initial heat from the early days of being his soulmate had long ago faded for her, even though her feelings and affection for him had grown significantly since then. She wondered if he still saw only her when she first entered the room. Judging by his reaction -the break in his breathing pattern, the unblinking stare- it so far had remained. That gave her a little secret thrill, and she also felt envious. She missed those first feelings of warmth whenever she touched him, although she would never have traded those sensations for the closeness they had now.

He'd saved her a seat at the bar and said hello as she took it, then waved the bartender over. Tim was drinking a black and tan, so she asked for the same. The bartender stepped away, pulled her beer, and brought it over a moment later.

"You know," Tim began after she'd taken a sip, "you never told me why you joined the force."

"You never asked," Lucy replied, then said, "It was kind of a whim."

"Awhim?" She giggled at the clear incredulity in his question. "You know, most people impulse buy or get questionable tattoos on a whim. Becoming a cop? Sort of a risky whim, don't you think?"

"Okay, maybe whim is the wrong word," she corrected. "It was sudden though. I had put off going for my masters, and my parents were starting to get on me about that. Then I joined the academy. I didn't really plan it, but I'm glad it happened. Don't get me wrong, it's hard work." She held her glass up in a cheers. "Luckily, I have a great teacher."

"You're damn right you do," he agreed heartily as he clinked his glass to hers. "Great, good with a gun, and handsome as hell."

Lucy smirked. "Are you fishing for compliments?" she asked as he laughed. "I'm starting to think this is a long con to get me to call you pretty." He didn't say no, so she ended with, "Yes, my teacher is all those things. And more."

Tim didn't thank her for her praise (praiseheprompted, no less), but she noticed the tips of his ears turn red.

"What about you?" she asked. "Why did you join the force?"

His answer was more clear cut. "I needed something to do after the Army, and being behind a desk never really appealed to me."

She could have figured that answer out herself, but she didn't say so. Instead, she asked, "So is patrol it for you, then? Since you don't want to be behind a desk?"

He shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it, to be honest."

"Hm."

His brow furrowed. "What?"

"Nothing." Well, no not nothing, but she wouldn't clarify unless he insisted. Of course, he insisted, because this was Tim after all, so she told him, "I guess I just think about the officers I've worked with, the cops that taught me at the academy," -Hawke and his host of issues and inadequacies sprang to mind- "and I wonder if you aren't depriving the department somehow by staying put and trying to take on the world one rookie at a time."

"Don't tell me you're trying to get rid of me, Lucy."

She laughed. "No, no. That's not it at all. I'm happy you're my TO, but good cops make good cops and… to be honest, we need more good cops."

He didn't respond to that directly, just nodded and took a sip of his drink, but seemed to consider her words for several minutes after.

That's how their time together went for the remainder of the night. There was no stiltedness to their conversation, but an ease that almost seemed practiced; and when there was silence, neither hurried to fill it with unnecessary words. She only had the one beer while they sat at the bar, nursing it while they lingered and gradually lost track of the time. Neither had realized hours passed until the music playing over the speakers got quieter and the crowd thinned, and they still did not rise from their seats until after the last call was given and the lights came up. As the bartender wiped down the counter, Lucy paid the bill, and then Tim walked her to her car. All told, the night was nothing special; nothing groundbreaking, nothing deep. Just two friends out for a drink, but she still put a star on the date in her phone's calendar. Even if nothing significant had been said, the date itself felt noteworthy, and she wanted to remember it.

He did not go easy on her in the days following, as promised at the beginning of her training and reinforced after her plain clothes day. Tim continued to expect the best from her, and she tried to rise to his standards as often as she could, though she still fell short more often than she would have liked. She had to trust he would not lead her astray with his training methods. No matter how questionable she occasionally found them, they were born out of the twin goals of enforcing the law and doing so safely. This job was dangerous; not that she'd ever forgotten, but a harsh reminder of the inherent risk was delivered the day that a prison transport crashed. The Wilshire units were called in to handle and oversee the rounding up of the escaped convicts. It was a day of tension with little rest or reprieve. Lucy couldn't recall a shift that had been more stressful than this one. It reached a fever pitch when a contact of Tim's -a reformed gang member named Deacon who now worked in community outreach- reached out to him and let him know that one of the escaped convicts, Marcos, was at his home.

Lucy had sympathy for the situation; she really did, but as Marcos' gang encircled the home and closed in, she wondered aloud to Tim what the right call could possibly be in this situation. What if they weighed his life against the lives of the many others in this neighborhood? If it came between saving Marcos and saving dozens of other innocents, shouldn't they? Tim did not agree. His eyes flashed with fury at her question, and his answer both floored and humbled her.

"I'm unwilling to let fear make me do something I'll be ashamed of in the light of day," he replied righteously, and she took the correction with no other comment.

They made it out of the stand-off by the skin of their teeth. Tim had told Sergeant Grey to hold off on reinforcements until overwhelming force could be provided, and thank God he'd been able to do so shortly after Tim had left the house to talk with the gang's leader. Lucy's worry had morphed into new levels of terror for every second he'd stood outside by himself. Only when the gang was forced to stand down and Tim returned to the house and to her was she able to breathe again. It caught her by surprise how desperately she needed him safe.

Their unit managed to bring in the biggest arrest of the day, having not only tracked down the remaining fugitive but also heading up the takedown of most of the 5-4. All the gang members were hauled away in cuffs, and Marcos was returned to the prison transport. She and Tim stayed behind to make sure Deacon was okay. The older man was shaken, but unharmed, "Thanks to you," he said to Tim, and clapped him gratefully on the shoulder.

Once the scene was cleared, Lucy and Tim left. As they drove back to the station, he was uncharacteristically pensive.

"So," she began after a few minutes, "you just have to show me up at every turn, don't you? I face off against three members of La Eme, and you go up against basically the entire 5-4?" She chuckled, but he remained stoic. "Tim? Are you okay?"

He finally seemed to break out of his thoughts, and stammered out, "Yeah… just thinking."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly," he murmured, drumming a rhythm onto the steering wheel before asking, "Um… did you mean what you said?"

"… You're going to need to be more specific."

"The other night. When you said I'm depriving the department by staying put."

She sighed. Had he been holding onto that for this long? She'd meant it as a compliment; as inspiration. "Tim, if I hurt your feelings-"

"- No, you didn't," he informed her, before adding after a breath, "I think you might be right."

Oh? "You do?"

He nodded, if slowly and with a degree of hesitation. "I think maybe I should take the sergeant's exam." He glanced at her, trying to appraise her reaction in a second from the corner of his eye "It would put me at a desk sometimes, but still keep me closer to patrol work when I want to be. I don't know. Could be a good balance."

Lucy tried not to seem overly enthused by this possibility, but admitted, "I do like the idea of you being out of harm's way more often." It was impossible to not think about his most recent stand-off, which could've gone wrong a hundred different ways.

"So you don't think it's a bad idea?"

"I mean, technically it was my idea," she retorted, then said, "but no. I think it's great. I think it sounds perfect."

To see her normally strict and regimented training officer turn reckless was not something Lucy expected, and yet, that was exactly what happened a few days later, following the announcement that Internal Affairs would be conducting reversals; a common operation, apparently, in which officers working within IA would root out misconduct among patrolling officers. Tim was instantly on his guard after Captain Andersen had issued the announcement, regarding every stop with not just scrutiny, but suspicion.

His suspicions proved correct once (and only once) when they pulled over a reckless driver that turned out to be Mario Lopez. Yes,theMario Lopez; AC Slater in the flesh, all biceps and dimples and oozing charm. He promptly tried to bribe them to get out of a ticket, offering passes to a special event or meeting a celebrity of their choosing in exchange for being let off with a warning. Tim saw through it almost immediately, and once he spotted the detective overseeing reversals parked a short distance away, she was instructed to issue a ticket to Mr. Lopez.

"You know," Lucy said as she explained it to Nolan and Jackson that night as they grabbed dinner from a food truck downtown, "I wouldn't have let him off the hook. He may have some pull in Hollywood, but I doubt he could introduce me to Adam Driver, no matter what he said."

Jackson laughed. "And if he could have?"

"I still would've said no. Come on. Do you really think Tim would've let me take a bribe?" They'd gotten exactly zero freebies so far, and that was not from a lack of offers. The thought of him taking a bribe -or letting her take one in order to meet one of her celebrity crushes- was laughable. "Good thing I'm more of a Mark-Paul Gosselaar girl, anyways," she said as they walked toward one of the trucks and placed their orders. While they waited, she relayed a second story from her day, this time about how she and Tim answered an alarm at a grow house. They'd literally stumbled onto a guy who'd stepped into a trap; a bear trap, as a matter of fact. Tim was so convinced that it was a second reversal that, even as Lucy tried to convince him against it, he attempted to pry the trap open with his bare hands (this pun earned her groaning laughter from both men). "I've never seen someone pass out from pain before," she ended with a shiver, feeling briefly nauseated by the recollection.

Jackson had experienced no reversals that day, but walked a child through his sister's OD. The ordeal was harrowing, and Lucy did not envy him a bit as he explained it. "I'll never forget the…" a pause followed as he struggled to land on a good word, "helplessness, in that kid's eyes." There was silence as they took in his story. It affected them differently, Lucy knew. For one thing, Jackson had actually lived it. Nolan had another level of empathy for these scenarios, being a father to a son himself; no matter how grown, there was no dividing those feelings from experience. Lucy felt deeply for the boy, and wished a better outcome for him and his sister. The brief reverie was soon broken when Jackson asked Nolan, "What about you? Any reversals?"

Nolan was uncharacteristically evasive as he relayed his single exceptional tale from the day. "Had to pull a psycho off a valet at a hotel. Her dress ripped as I cuffed her, exposing her," he hesitated over the euphemism, "unmentionables." He huffed out a deep breath with wide eyes. "Oof. She was pissed."

Jackson and Lucy exchanged a glance before he said, "Wow."

"What?" Nolan asked.

"That was for sure a reversal. The dress was probably rigged," Lucy replied. No, it probably wasn't, but the joke was all in good fun.

"That's what I said!" he exclaimed emphatically, but that was before he saw their knowing looks and barely concealed laughter and realized, yeah, there was a possibility that the dress was rigged, but really his friends were more interested in teasing him at the moment. "Oh. Okay." With a good-natured laugh, Nolan turned to the man at the window. "Can I get that to go?"

Lucy swatted his arm playfully. "Come on, don't be like that! We're just joking."

He waved her off, but didn't seem offended. "Look, I would love to keep telling war stories," he said as his food was passed to him in a white plastic bag, "but we have another day of reversals tomorrow, and I for one need my beauty sleep." Then, he ended with, "Goodnight, you two," and walked toward the parking lot.

While they waited for their food, Jackson asked, "So. Inquiring minds need to know…" and he trailed off before specifying further.

The lack of resolution to his sentence forced Lucy to wonder, "Inquiring minds need to know what, exactly?"

"What's going on?" It still was not enough information, so she waited for more. He finally said, "Oh, come on, Luce. With you and Tim?"

"Oh." She chuckled slyly, but didn't say at first. For one thing, there wasn't muchtosay, and for another, the specifics still felt rather private. "He's my TO and… well, we're sort of friends."

"'Sort of'?"

"No, we are," she answered as their food was passed from the order window. As they searched for a seat among the available picnic tables, Lucy revealed, "We're in a good place, him and I."

"Really?" he asked with a smirk. When she nodded, he followed it with, "So, should I be looking to ask you guys n a double date with me and Gino anytime soon?"

"Maybe not that good a place," she confessed, although the idea of a double date with Jackson and his new boyfriend appealed to her. It was less likely to appeal to Tim, though, and was certainly not something she'd ask him to do in the near future. "We're getting along, but we're just friends. And Captain Andersen made it clear that fraternization of that sort won't be tolerated for as long as he's my TO."

"So, if he weren't your TO…"

She put a stop to the thought at once, just as much for her sake as for Jackson's. "But he is."

"But if he weren't," he continued with a shrug, "what would be stopping you?"

She didn't get to answer the question, because no sooner had she begun to think about it when the unmistakable sound of rapid gunfire reached them from the parking lot.

"Nolan," Jackson whispered, breathless as he rose to his feet.

Lucy followed apace, and their meals lay forgotten on the table as they raced to the lot, each having drawn their off-duty weapons as they ran towards the sound. Behind them, chaos erupted as diners quickly fled the area. They reached the parking lot just in time to hear the sound of a car pealing out, and their eyes landed on Nolan's truck. It had been destroyed by gunfire and was now riddled with bullet holes. Nolan was nowhere in sight.

Chapter 21: We Have the Watch from Here

Notes:

"We just run 'round these walls
And we climb just to fall
And we hope it's enough to be thought of

When your walls are crashing down
I'll be your solid ground."

- "Satellite", Ben Abraham

Chapter Text

It was Lucy who spotted Nolan crouched beside the passenger door, having taken cover on the opposite side of the truck when the bullets started flying. He sat with this back pressed against the truck, and as she rounded the truck bed, he was still covering his head with his arms. He looked up as she approached. Lowering his arms caused a cascade of shattered glass to rain down on either side of him. While she attended to him, Jackson called the shooting in as an off-duty officer, and a whole host of people were dispatched to their location; everyone from RA to Sergeant Grey and Captain Andersen were notified. It was still too soon to say what had happened for sure, but a quick assessment of the scene showed no other victims, with only the cars to the immediate right of his truck sustaining damage. Her best guess? Someone wanted him dead. Badly.

Whoever it was, they'd failed, and thank God for that. By some miracle, Nolan managed to escape the shooting unscathed. Not even a scratch, although he was substantially shaken to the point he couldn't speak at first. Lucy knew the trauma of the shooting would likely linger, even if he appeared unhurt on the outside. The same could not be said of his truck. All the windows had been shot out; the mirrors were blown clear off, and side panels were punctured irreparably. To her untrained eye, it appeared totaled, and she doubted a professional would say otherwise.

Once she was certain that no danger remained, she holstered her gun and crouched beside Nolan, speaking to him in gentle, coaxing tones.

"Can you stand?" she asked, and offered him a hand to help him up. He was shaking as he stood to his feet, his face pale with fear,. "Did you see who shot you?" He shook his head. "Okay. It's okay. It's going to be okay." With her arm around him, she guided him away from the wreckage just as she spotted red lights in the distance. A moment later, EMTs arrived on the scene, and they volleyed questions at him, which she answered on his behalf to the best of her ability. Shortly after she handed him into their care, her phone rang. It was Tim.

"Hey," she began, "I was just about to call you."

"Are you okay?" he asked. His stress was palpable, evident even through the phone. "Sergeant Grey said there's been a shooting. Were you with Nolan?"

She was quick to ease his worries. "I'm fine. Jackson and I weren't with him when it happened, but we're here now."

"Is he okay?"

"I mean…" she glanced at Nolan as the paramedics on the scene looked him over. No visible injuries, but she bet they were more concerned about him going into shock at this point. "He wasn't hit, but he's pretty shaken up." Her eyes again landed on his destroyed truck; the pierced metal, the shattered glass. "He got really lucky."

"I'm on my way. Stay put," he said, then hung up.

As promised, he arrived soon after ending their call. Nolan had been given water by the EMTs, but nothing more was needed, and he seemed to be coming down from the adrenaline rush and could once again speak, although he was instructed to take it easy. Upon joining them, Tim checked on Nolan first, ascertaining his well-being before turning to Lucy next.

"And you sure you're okay?" he said. Despite the seriousness of the moment, from behind him, Jackson stifled a giggle.

"I'm fine," she repeated, ignoring her friend's truly inopportune teasing. "What do we do now?"

"We should canvass the area for witnesses." He turned to Jackson, who stopped snickering just in time. "West, with me," he said, then started walking away. Lucy tried to join them, but he stopped her. "No, you stay back with Nolan."

"We can cover more ground with three of us," she countered, but he would hear none of it.

"I said what I said, Chen. Stay here."

She knew why he did it. By staying with Nolan, he knew where she was, and if something were to happen, she'd be with another cop. If she'd joined them on canvassing, she would've probably gone off on her own and been alone if she came across trouble. She tried to be okay with the gesture -she knew his desire to keep her safe came from a good place- but in reality she felt… kind of coddled, and she didn't like that.

Before much longer more officers arrived on the scene, as did Talia and Angela. They waited to discuss the shooting until Jackson and Tim were finished canvassing.

"No one saw the shooter," Jackson informed them.

Nolan seemed incredulous at this. "He fired a couple hundred rounds."

"No one isadmittingthey saw him," Tim corrected.

Talia looked at Nolan. "Who'd you piss off?" To this, he shrugged.

"Someone with access to automatic weapons," Tim said as Nolan answered simultaneously, "I didn't recognize him."

While they lobbed theories about, Captain Andersen and Sergeant Grey joined their circle. Both appeared inscrutable as they turned Nolan.

"According to intelligence," the Captain said sternly, "you've been green lit by Southern Front."

When Nolan didn't seem to understand, Sergeant Grey clarified, "They put a hit on you."

From beside Lucy, Tim said, "How does a rookie get green lit before I do? I gotta step my game up."

Talia made a sound like disgust at this comment, which, to be honest, Lucy found pretty distasteful, too. "It's not a badge of honor."

"Youwantdo be green lit?" Lucy asked.

"I wanna know I'm pissing off bad guys, yeah," he said glibly, to which she rolled her eyes.

The Captain took a moment to explain in deeper detail what was happening. The woman Nolan had arrested that day -the one whose dress he'd accidentally torn while cuffing her- was Astrid Heisserer, the girlfriend of Cole Midas. Cole was the acting leader of the Southern Front, a gang of white supremacists, and one of the largest and most violent criminal gangs in the nation. Because of Nolan's perceived disrespect, they wanted him dead. No one else was included in the hit, which meant Talia was safe, but protecting Nolan was officially their squad's number one priority.

"Come with me, Nolan," Captain Andersen said. "I'll escort you home."

After the Captain had left with Nolan, Sergeant Grey departed to organize a security detail at his house. Angela and Talia left soon after, leaving Jackson, Lucy, and Tim as the last ones on the scene.

"I feel awful," Lucy said a little mournfully.

"Me, too." Jackson replied.

"Don't." Tim said sharply. Even though the threat of danger was behind them for now, he remained hyper-vigilant, his back straight as a ramrod as his eyes continued to scan for evidence of new threats. "There's nothing you could've done," he finished, then nodded first to Lucy "You should get home. Tomorrow is going to be tough."

She knew he was correct, but she still turned away and asked Jackson, "What are you going to do?"

"Me?" Her friend considered it, mulling it while fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. "Honestly, I kind of want to go keep Nolan company. Feel like he could use the support, you know? I know if it were me, I'd probably want some friendly faces around."

She thought that was a brilliant idea. Well, maybe brilliant was overstating it, but better by far than staying at home, too worried to sleep a wink. If she was with Nolan, at least she could feel useful by offering her company. To Tim, Lucy said, "I think I'm going to go with Jackson.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than Tim caught her by the crook of her elbow. "Will you excuse us?" he said to Jackson before taking her aside to speak with her a little more privately. "Look," he began once they were out of earshot, "I know Nolan's your friend, but there's nothing you can do for him. Patrol is headed there now. They'll be able to protect him just fine."

"It's not just about protecting him," Lucy replied as she gently pulled out of his grip. "He's alone. He doesn't have family here. He could use a friend or two."

"Friend or not, you don't need to go."

"No, I don't need to, but I want to." Then, she wondered, "Does this have anything to do with not letting me canvass?"

He skirted the question. "Someone needed to stay with Nolan."

"And the fact it kept me away from potential danger was just, what? Convenient?"

"I didn't say that," he replied, but neither did he deny it outright.

Lucy had guessed as much, and could only be but so mad at him. Perhaps mad was not the correct word; frustrated was closer to it. He had not spared her from any risk before now, so what made this different? Was it because it occurred after hours, off the job? Did it have to do at all with his lingering indifference towards Nolan? "Tim," she started slowly, trying to ease into her reply, "I appreciate that you want to keep me safe." He frowned at her observation, but she would not be deterred. "That's what this is, isn't it?"

"It's part of it," he admitted.

"I thought so. Like I said, I appreciate it, but," she paused and released a scoffing breath, "we're cops. This is my world, too. You're not going to be able to protect me every time there's danger. And if protecting Nolan is now the number one priority for the department, wouldn't you agree that that makes it the safest place I could be?"

He couldn't argue with her logic, a revelation that made his grimace deepen, but he did ask with a defeated air, "I can't change your mind, can I?"

She shook her head.

"Okay then," he said bluntly and withdrew. It was the last thing he said before he stalked away.

She sighed watching him go, knowing he was angry at her for deciding to put herself in harm's way, but she did not exactly sorry for doing so.

"You ready?" Jackson called, an amused smile on his face, having watched their exchange from afar.

"Yeah," she replied, and with a slight shake of her head, tried to put their argument out of her mind.

They drove separately to Nolan's, but approached the guest house together to find it teeming with technical workers both inside and out. The workers were putting the finishing touches on an intricate home alarm system. As they reached the steps, they were met by Captain Andersen who was on her way out.

"Officer West," she greeted with a nod. "Officer Chen. What are you doing here?"

"Guard duty," she answered simply.

At this, Captain Andersen gave her a crooked smile. "Well, I guess this explains why Officer Bradford tried to get assigned to perimeter detail."

Lucy didn't know Tim had made such a request. He hadn't mentioned before leaving the parking lot; their conversation had solely focused on Lucy and her plans. Surprised, she asked, "He did?"

"I told him we had it under control but," the Captain looked past Lucy's shoulder, "I don't think that stopped him."

She followed her gaze out to the street. Through the hedges, she could see the familiar outline of Tim's truck as it rolled to a stop a good distance away from the front door.

"You call me directly if anything happens," Captain Andersen ordered, then left the pair alone on the steps.

Jackson elbowed Lucy playfully after the Captain had walked away. "You coming? Or," he nodded his head in Tim's direction and wondered, "are you going?"

She sighed. "I should probably go talk to him." With a sideways glance at Jackson, she confided in a sheepish tone, "We kind of had a fight."

He clicked his tongue in exaggerated sympathy. "Aw. First lover's quarrel?"

With a snort, she retorted, "Shut up," then stepped away, walking down the driveway toward Tim's car.

He rolled down the window as she approached. Borrowing a joke of Nolan's, she said, "License and registration?"

Her bad joke earned a sardonic chuckle from Tim. "Cute."

She took it a step farther, just for fun. "Sir, if you won't comply, I'm gonna need you to step out of the vehicle." All this was playfully done, of course, but he made a show of hesitating before doing as she demanded. Once he shut the driver's side door behind him, Lucy asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are," he replied, a little haughty as he finished, "Security."

"Really? Because Captain Andersen says she told you they had it covered."

His smile tightened at being caught. "Well. Now it's extra covered."

"I see." She said, then asked, "Is this why you were mad at me?"

"Yeah," he answered quickly. "Because I'm fucking tired… but I wasn't about to let you do this without doing what I can to help." Before she could protest about her own capabilities, he added, "And before you say that I can't protect you from everything, I want you to know it's not about that."

"Really?"

"Really," he confirmed with a nod. "You wanted to be here for Nolan, and I want to be here for you."

Well, that was much better than trying to shield her from every possible harm. "So… you're okay with me doing this?"

"I wouldn't go that far," he admitted, "but I get it. Come on," he said and, gesturing toward the house, ended with, "I'll walk you up."

"I think I can cross a street myself, Tim," she replied with a smirk, but didn't stop him from accompanying her. The driveway was a decent length, and so the walk was rather long. They didn't meander, but neither did they rush to the door. It was an easy pace they kept, side by side.

"Thanks for walking me home," she joked as they reached the door.

"No problem. You know me, I'm a gentleman," he replied before adding soberly, "I'm out here if you need me, okay?"

She nodded. Ideally, she would not need his help, but it was nice to know he was out there. Not that she required his presence to feel comfortable… but she also appreciated it, and was grateful for the sacrifice he was making.

"How's Tim?" Jackson teased as she entered the living room.

Nolan scolded him playfully. "Now, come on Jackson. Don't make her uncomfortable." He looked at Lucy, "But seriously, how is Tim?"

Her only response to their comments was an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Then she asked Nolan, "You got anything sweet?"

One bowl of ice cream each later and they settled in for a movie, then followed it with a particularly aggressive game of Egyptian Rat Screw. Lucy won and she celebrated her victory with a happy dance even as Jackson semi-seriously accused her of cheating. They took turns snoozing on the couch, but each only got sleep in short bursts. When the sun rose, both Nolan and Jackson were asleep; Jackson on the couch, Nolan on the floor, which,oof,poor Nolan. He'd regret that later, Lucy thought. Alone, she watched the night give way to dawn. When the sky was more golden than dusky, she rose from her seat beside the window and brewed enough coffee for all of them. For now, she only poured two cups. One she prepared to her own liking; the other, to Tim's.

He hadn't budged from where she left him the night before, and when he saw her approaching, he stepped out of his truck. While last night had been a whirlwind of fear and worry, the breaking daylight made the world look new, and that somehow made hoping for the best easier; and Tim, wearing that charcoal gray jacket that made his eyes look extra blue, made her feel more awake than a coffee ever could.

"Good morning," he said first.

"Good morning," she repeated, then held out his coffee. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," he replied through a half-smile and a stretch before taking the mug she offered him. "I'm getting too old for all-nighters. I'm pushing forty here, Lucy."

"You did not just call yourself old."

"I didn't say I'm old. I said I'mgettingold. There's a difference."

She laughed at his parsing and replied, "Thirty-eight is not the same as forty." Okay, so it was pretty close, but she was trying to make him feel better. "Besides, I'm sure you manage to stay up when it matters." His eyes went wide at her joke, and Lucy realized her accidental double entendre a second too late. "I mean…" She stammered briefly, but found no way out of the comment that didn't increase her feelings of awkwardness, so eventually she stammered through blushing, "I'm just going to drink my coffee and pretend neither of us have said anything yet."

She took a sip, paused to take a full, deep breath, then tried again. "Good morning, Tim."

He smirked. "Good morning, Lucy."

As they drank their coffee while leaning against his truck, they discussed what would happen that day. Lucy had never heard of an officer being green lit before, and so was unfamiliar with the procedure for handling it. Tim had been on cases for it a few times in the past, and so could tell her what to expect from the day.

"I hope you got a little sleep," he said after explaining asset seizure to her. "It's gonna be a long day. Captain will probably expect overtime until the green light gets lifted."

"I managed a little bit here and there. You?"

"Took a power nap around four. I'll be okay."

She nodded, then said earnestly, "Thank you for being here."

"You're welcome," he replied, but added after, "This isn't going to happen again tonight, is it? Because I would like to sleep in my own bed if I could."

She laughed, but didn't answer the question. He'd get no such promise from her until this was all over. "I'll see you at work."

She took his mug and returned to the house to find Nolan and Jackson awake and drinking their coffee. Over a breakfast of toast and eggs (Nolan cooked) they talked about the day ahead. Lucy relayed what information Tim had provided, and then she and Jackson left for the station. Nolan was encouraged to stay behind, even though it bothered him to let everyone else "fight his battles". Whether he stayed there remained to be seen. If Lucy knew him at all, he wouldn't be able to stay away. She was proven right when, midway through the morning briefing, Nolan meekly entered the room. That was enough to inspire her, but she was further moved when Tim was the first to stand and acknowledge him, even clapping a proud hand on his shoulder as he passed before joining the others in applauding.

Tim had been correct in assuming that asset seizure would be their primary task for the day. The goal was to hit Southern Front where it hurt the most, and that meant going after their businesses. Anything and everything that turned a profit was seized, including a little karaoke venue that she and Jackson had visited themselves, having no idea of its gang ties. Although Lucy still failed to see the connection between attacking their businesses and getting the green light lifted, she trusted Tim when he said it would work.

They'd just logged twenty gallons of lubricant into evidence when he got sidetracked. Detective Murphy, the officer they'd encountered the day before during reversals, was in the bullpen watching the operation with a smug expression as he stormed up to her. He moved quickly enough that the exchange was practically over by the time Lucy was close enough to hear and intervene.

"Can you come check on something for me?" she asked. "I want to make sure I'm doing it by the book." She hoped Tim would recognize the out and cooperate.

As he turned, Detective Murphy looked at Lucy. "You want some free advice, Boot? Ask for another TO. I know I would if I were you."

That suggestion -unprompted and spoken so fuckingsnidely- made her see red. Who did this woman think she was? It was only through sheer willpower that Lucy managed to keep her response controlled, passive, and without any of the venom she felt roiling in her against the detective. "Well, you're not me, ma'am," she replied dully, then went off to catch up with Tim.

It was a grind, taking down business after business, logging all sort of seized property as evidence, but they worked at it until the call came mid-afternoon. Sergeant Grey had visited the head of the gang in prison. Leonard Midas, or "King Midas", as he was known by his subordinates, had told his son to lift the green light. Given that their businesses had sustained millions of dollars worth of losses in just a single day, Cole had no choice but to comply. Lucy was thrilled to process her last arrest related to the gang, glad both for her friend's assured safety and for things to return back to normal.

She should have known by now that "normal" was a mirage; that normal never lasted.

When Lucy remembered it later, it only came to her in flashes, and even those were hazy. They'd just returned to their beat when the call had come. All officers were being directed to a large house on Kristol Lane, the last known location for Captain Andersen and Officer Nolan, who had not been heard from in over an hour. They fell in with the other patrol cars, a cavalry of lights and sirens that descended all at once. It seemed like every where she turned there was another officer in uniform, but she and Tim headed up the line with their guns high. They rounded the corner. She blacked out after that.

It wasn't that she fainted or otherwise fell unconscious; her brain simply refused to record the event. It was likely from shock that her mind failed to convert the short term memories into something permanent. She only heard it described later, relayed to her in a whisper by Tim. Nolan had been found sitting beside the pool, soaked to the bone and still. Captain Andersen was in his lap. Her eyes were towards the sky, vacant and unseeing. A bullet fired by the Southern Front had gone clean through her carotid artery.

The Captain was dead. She'd bled out long before help had arrived.

At the end of their shift, Tim drove Lucy back to her apartment. No, technically she didn't need the ride; she'd driven herself to work that morning and could've safely seen herself home, but she was touched by Tim's offer and accepted.

"You okay?"

It was the first thing either of them had said during the drive. At his question, Lucy shook her head.

"No. You?"

He shook his head, too. "No."

She'd been silently remembering her last conversation with Captain Andersen. They'd spoken briefly outside Nolan's house the night he'd been green lit, but their last real talk had occurred that first day of reversals. The Captain had asked Lucy about her apartment. She wanted to know how the move had gone, how she was settling in to the new place, and, "The last time we spoke, we talked about curtains. Curtains," Lucy said, then huffed a watery laugh. "If I'd known… I guess it doesn't matter now.

"If you'd known," Tim said, "what would you have said?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice flat as she continued. "I was thrilled when I got assigned to Mid-Wilshire and found out the captain was a woman. There's so much I wanted to ask her. So much I wanted to learn. I just thought there would always be more time." She glanced at Tim and, with tears once again threatening the corners of her eyes, confided, "I don't know what happens now."

Another stretch of silence followed, with the hush punctuated only by the constant thrum of the engine and the low murmur from the radio.
Eventually, Tim asked, "Did I ever tell you what the Captain said to me after your plain clothes day?"

Lucy shook her head. "No." If it was anything like the chewing out she'd gotten, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear it.

"She lit me up," he chuckled sadly. "No one could put me in my place quite like her. Well," he shot her a look, and his smile had an edge of sadness to it as he said, "with one notable exception."

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'Am I going to be disappointed in you, Officer Bradford'?" He paused, letting the words hang in the air a minute or two before continuing. "And I didn't get what she was saying at first. Then she told me that she asked Sarge to assign you to me because she thought you had the potential for greatness. I've trained a lot of rookies, Chen, and she's never said that before."

"I… didn't know that's why," Lucy replied when he'd finished. "I guess that explains why she wanted to keep us together."

He agreed. "She thought you could be extraordinary, but didn't want you falling into the trap of trying to impress anyone, including me. She believes in you." Then, in a whisper, he corrected himself. "She believed in you."

No more was said for the rest of the drive. He put the truck in park, then walked her to her door. She led the way upstairs. When they made it to her doorstep, Lucy turned and curled herself into his body before she wrapped her arms round his waist. Her head rested against his chest, and his heartbeat drummed against her ear. She could hear the breath in his lungs as he inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly. In and out, in a steady wave-like rhythm that both consoled her and grounded her to reality. Tim paused only a moment before he reciprocated the embrace, and soon his arms encircled her shoulders and he pulled her even closer. In time, one of his hands found the nape of her neck and stroked her skin lightly, gently. She felt a hum in her body as he held her, but there was otherwise no romance to the moment. It wasn't the time for that, and that had also not been her aim. Lucy could tell from his touch that he was trying his best to offer her comfort, and judging by the intensity of his grip around her shoulders and the need she sensed therein, he was himself in need of comforting. They could be forgiven for taking solace in one another this way. Their grief was still fresh and therefore volatile. Lucy herself had swung between disbelief and despair just on the drive home. Holding onto him did not stop the pain, but it was a tangible reminder that they had a safe place in each other. When they pulled apart however many minutes later, both of their faces were wet with tears.

The days that followed were blurred by the loss. There was no aspect of Lucy's life where she did not sense acutely what had changed. Morale at work improved only slightly when they managed to arrest Cole Midas for killing the Captain, but even that was a justice that felt empty. He didn't resist arrest and so was captured alive, which disappointed a handful of officers; she overheard a few of the veterans mumbling among themselves that they would've liked to see him in a box, not a cell. Lucy wasn't sure she disagreed with that stance, but that reaction was pretty knee-jerk of her. Tim maintained a clean arrest and a fair trial would've been what the Captain wanted, so she tried to come around to that viewpoint. It wasn't easy. A trial would play out in the public eye, potentially stretching on for months. Even if he was put away for life, it would not undo the grief that hung heavy over the entire department like a cloud of ash. That, she knew, would only clear with time.

The funeral was held on a Saturday. It was a sunny day, bright and warm. Maybe not the kind of day one usually associated with a funeral, but there was no doubt a beautiful day was the least of what Captain Andersen deserved. As many as could safely be spared from the station for a short time were permitted to attend the funeral and graveside service. Angela and Jackson drove together for the funeral, but had to leave immediately afterwards in order to make their shift; they did not join the procession to the cemetery. Nolan, Talia, and Tim were three of the pallbearers. All of them, and many others, wore their Class As for the occasion, and still more arrived in military dress uniforms. The chief of police, the mayor, and the whole city council were all in attendance as were hundreds of others, but the mourner who caught and kept Lucy's attention was a slight woman in her late sixties. She wore a brightly colored dress patterned with blue and lavender flowers; the lone spot of color in a sea of black and uniforms, and the only one for whom a sundress would not be considered a faux pas. She sobbed loudly when the flag that had been draped over Captain Andersen's casket was ceremoniously folded and presented to her by a military service member towards the end of the interment service.

Lucy had managed to hold back tears until then, but as she watched the Captain's mother take the flag and weep into it openly, she could no longer keep them at bay. She wiped them away the best she could, but feared too much dabbing would turn the tips of her gloves black from her mascara. Eventually, she let them course unhindered down her cheeks.

Sergeant Grey closed the graveside ceremony, his face a somber mask as he left his wife's side and taking his place beside the head of the casket. Everyone who wore a uniform stood and saluted as he took out a radio, and into it, gave the end of watch call for Captain Zoe Andersen.

"Seven-Adam-Fifteen."

A pause followed as they all waited, listening to the empty airwaves for a response that would never come.

"Seven-Adam-Fifteen, Captain Andersen, do you copy?"

Again, silence. Except for the cries from the Captain's mother, now muffled by the flag in her arms, not a sound was made from any of the mourners.

"Seven-Adam-Fifteen… out of service. Gone, but not forgotten."

Sergeant Grey's voice broke as he spoke one final time.

"We have the watch from here."

Chapter 22: Parental Expectations

Notes:

"We are always in motion
Like the winds, the tides, the ocean
Every day I'm born again
I wake up, I feel that second wind
We're gonna be all right"
"We're Gonna Be All Right", Switchfoot

Chapter Text

For a week or two after they buried Captain Andersen, Lucy could not shake the sound of her mother crying at the funeral. Her wailing -deep and broken, bordering on guttural, borne out of a deep ache that she herself could not fathom- reached her even while sleeping. A few times, the memory of it woke her out of deep sleep. She fumbled in the darkness for the lamp on her nightstand, certain she heard the cries from within her own apartment, only for them to disappear with an echo as she blinked in the sudden light. She was never able to return to sleep after waking. If Tim noticed the dark circles on her eyes, he didn't comment on them, but she caught him looking at her with concern in his gaze more than once.

She finally came clean about it during a lull in a shift the morning after her third nightmare. "I guess maybe it's bothering me because I haven't talked to my own mom in…" she tallied the date in her head. It was April now, and the last time they'd spoken was a few days before Christmas. "Wow. Four months."

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

"Do you think I should try to talk to them?" she wondered.

"Do you want to?"

Honestly? Not really, but Lucy felt like sheshouldwant to; and wanting to want to, as confusing and entangled a feeling as it was, was almost enough to motivate her. "I don't know," she confessed. "This is the longest we've gone without speaking."

"That doesn't really answer the question," he replied.

"I'm worried it won't go well," she admitted in a murmur. "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?" There'd been a time when Lucy couldn't have imagined them making such an ultimatum, but that was well before they'd stopped talking to her. The girl that had trotted faithfully down the path laid by her parents, pursuing their dreams with little thought towards her own ambitions, was long gone. She was her own person now, and she couldn't tell whether that bothered them as much or more than her decision to be a police officer.

Tim tried to offer his perspective. "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. You're not too bad at it either."

"High praise," she replied flatly, then said, "You know, I think that's only the second time I've heard you talk about your mom." She wisely avoided bringing up his father. His mention of him in the past had been vague and somewhat defensive, hinting at a harsh upbringing under the elder Bradford man.

For a moment, Lucy feared she made a misstep when she heard him inhale sharply. Then he asked, "What do you want to know?"

"What was her name?"

"Faye."

"Faye," Lucy repeated, testing the name herself with a grin. "That's really pretty. What was she like?"

To this, he chuckled. "Nicer than me."

"What?" She feigned disbelief. "No, that seems so unlikely."

He ignored her jibe. "She liked to garden. Lilies were her favorite." With little prompting on Lucy's part, he shared more, offering bits of insight into his mother and by extension, himself. Faye had been a preschool teacher, overseeing a program for three year-olds starting years before Tim was born. She had blue eyes and collected Ella Fitzgerald albums. She loved the color green.

"Do you think…" Lucy began to ask, then thought better of it. "No, never mind."

"What?"

"… Do you think she would've liked me?"

"Are you kidding? You've been a pain in my ass since day one." Before she could feel bad over his ribbing, he said quietly, "She would've been crazy about you."

A new captain was soon instated at the Mid-Wilshire station, and to say he fit the job poorly was an understatement. A former pencil-pusher out of touch with the demands of patrol work, no one liked Captain Weatherby; unfortunately there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. As he was forced to hand down asinine regulation after asinine regulation, Sergeant Grey became a little ill-tempered. The department's morale suffered in the days following the new captain's promotion, thanks in part to regulations like "no boots on tops of lockers" and insisting on ties on Fridays (the literal opposite of a casual Friday, and a rule that made no sense to anyone).

It became personal for Tim and Lucy when, two weeks after he took the job, they were called into a meeting with the new Captain and Sergeant Grey.

"Any clue what this is about?" Lucy whispered to Tim as they walked towards the Captain's office.

"No," he answered with a frown, "but my gut tells me it's nothing good."

His gut turned out to be right. The second they entered the room, Tim was instructed to close the door. Sergeant Grey cast them both a pointed look; from it, Lucy figured he already knew what was coming and had written it off as ridiculous, but was -as they were- hostage to the whims of the man in charge.

"The previous Captain allowed two soulmates to work together?" He looked up from his file to glance first at Tim and then Sergeant Grey. Lucy he failed to acknowledge entirely.

"That's correct." Sergeant Grey said.

Captain Weatherby sighed. "Well. I don't like it."

Tim stepped forward. "Sir, if I may?" The Captain looked momentarily disgruntled to have been interrupted by a lower-ranking officer, but allowed him to speak nonetheless. "I can assure you my connection to Officer Chen has not been a problem, and that it won't be in the future."

"Is that so, Officer Bradford? There's no chance you're going easy on the probationary officer under your instruction?"

Standing behind him, Lucy perceived the subtle way the muscles in Tim's back tensed at the accusation that was only posed as a question. She couldn't see his face, but she guessed his eyes flashed with a little anger before he managed to respond in a tight, controlled voice, "Not a chance, sir."

Captain Weatherby eyed Tim, then finally landed on Lucy. She kept her features schooled into neutral as he appraised them both silently, before finally pursing his lips into a sour expression. "We'll see. We'll see," he said, then closed the meeting. "You're dismissed."

Sergeant Grey led the way out, followed by Tim, with Lucy bringing up the end of the line. He led them straight out of the Captain's office and into his, where he quickly closed the door once Lucy was in.

Safely in the Sergeant's office Tim could speak a little more freely, although he still played it guarded in deference to the department's hierarchy. "Sir, is there any way to change his mind?"

"Change his mind? The man is looking at getting rid of the M in the vending machine because he read an article on Facebook about the dangers of red dye number 40." He laughed, but it was joyless and unamused. "If he decides to split you two up, there's nothing any of us can do to stop him, but it doesn't sound like he's decided yet. Want my advice?" He asked, looking at both Tim and Lucy as they said yes. "Don't make waves. Keep your protocols locked in. Attract as little attention as possible until this all blows over." Then, he permitted them to leave with a nod of his head.

As they drove away from the station, Lucy asked, "Would it really be so bad if the Captain split us up?"

Tim's answer betrayed how perturbed he was by the mere idea. "You know how people are. They talk. If you get moved to a different TO now, people might think you couldn't handle it. Or that I couldn't. It would be a bad look for both of us."

"But isn't that what's going to happen if you pass the sergeant's exam?"

"When I pass," he corrected slyly. "And it's different. We'd be splitting up because I'd move into a higher rank, not over something as arbitrary as whatever the hell the Captain is thinking now."

So the two of them did as Sergeant Grey suggested. They kept their heads down and their work above-board, hoping to avoid the Captain's ire and force his hand. A few days after their impromptu meeting in his office, Tim volunteered for a protection detail. At the morning briefing, the reason he gave was because, "Nolan and I haven't had a chance to bond yet", but his real answer was somewhat different when Lucy caught up to him outside the briefing room.

"Did you mean what you said about bonding with Nolan?" she asked, remembering that until recently Tim's opinion of her friend hadn't been much better than indifference.

He scoffed. "Yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll finally see what's so special about your little bestie." he said, then looked around. Seeing that the Captain was in his office with the door closed, Tim confessed, "It could take some of the heat off of us if we work separately when we can." Then he turned away, said "Be safe out there" over his shoulder, and walked toward the locker room to change back into plain clothes.

Just as he walked away, Talia approached Lucy. "Come on, Boot. Get the war bags and let's get going. Captain," disdain was all over the term as she said it, even as her face remained neutral, "is tracking our rollout times."

She nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

While Lucy had enjoyed working with Talia in the past, this time around, she was a little apprehensive. The last time they'd ridden together, things looked very different for her, personally. She was still new to the job then, and reeling from recently discovering her soulmate. Their second day riding together, Talia shared her experiences with timers, and her history had almost motivated Lucy to make a rash decision concerning her own.

Lucy touched the leather strap that circled her left wrist. She was glad she'd kept her timer, but she still wore Nolan's watch more often than not. She remembered then the conversation that she had had with Tim weeks ago at her apartment. He'd told her he understood why she still wore it, but despite his words, she registered just the slightest bit of hurt on his face as they discussed it. Things were better now, weren't they? Maybe she didn't need the watch anymore. After all, what did she have to cover? The timer was no longer a source of pain for her. She knew Tim well enough by now to know he would never outright ask her to return it, but if she wanted to… if she was ready to…

Well, it wasn't anything she needed to decide upon now. She'd have plenty of time to think about it later… and if she got the chance, she might ask Talia why she told Tim about Nolan's watch. There was surely a motive there that she still hadn't uncovered, and just because time had passed did not mean her curiosity was at all diminished.

They left shortly after she got the vehicle stocked, departing the station well within the Captain's mandated rollout time. Lucy's wish to ask Talia about Nolan's watch was shoved to the back burner within minutes of them hitting their patrol beat. Their first call of the day concerned a false imprisonment,but the situation quickly devolved when they discovered a mother holding her young adult son hostage while performing a violent exorcism on him. They entered the house just as she struck him across the chest with a cross while uttering a tearful prayer. By this time, the boy was too weak to even cry out in pain, and his girlfriend, who had placed the call, lunged at the mother. Lucy held her back just in time, but her rage quickly dissolved into agonized sobs as Talia apprehended and handcuffed the boy's mom. Lucy called for the ambulance, and in the meantime, got the young man untied.

"I've seen some dark shit," she said to Talia after the paramedics had taken the boy and his girlfriend to the hospital, "but that was another level."

Talia wasn't moved. Her reply was chilling. "I've seen worse."

Before Lucy could wonder what she meant, the conversation was disrupted when her personal cell phone buzzed on her hip. She pulled it out, checking the screen to see who was calling.

"Mom," she breathed, a cold chill running through her body as she read the name aloud. Lucy was tempted to send it to voicemail, but feared that ignoring her would only deepen the rift. With a nod of permission from Talia, she answered. She soon learned that the reason her mother had called was not to discuss their falling out, but to let her know that her father was in the hospital. A patient had assaulted him. His arm was injured, likely broken. Being that her mother was out of town at a conference, she was hoping that Lucy would go and check on him. Of course she said yes and hastily made plans to visit him after her shift was over. Never mind that they hadn't spoken in four months. Never mind that all their issues were still unresolved. This mattered more; the rest could be put aside.

Talia, who had been updated in pieces throughout the conversation, was gracious to Lucy and said, "Boot? We can go now." Then she radioed control to have them schedule a unit to meet them at Shaw Memorial for a prisoner transfer, and to put them 10-6 personal.

They arrived at Shaw Memorial and transferred their arrest to the other unit, then went into the hospital. Luckily for Lucy, Jackson's boyfriend Gino was working that morning. They'd only met a handful of times in the past few weeks, but seeing a familiar face made her feel better. She went to him immediately.

"Gino," she greeted him, trying to smile but not quite managing, "I'm looking for my dad, Patrick Chen. They uh, said he came in a little while ago. Broken arm?"

It only took a few seconds of scanning for him to locate her father's name on the list of admitted patients. "Bed 2," he replied, and pointed in the direction of the triage rooms before saying earnestly, "I'm really sorry."

It was Talia who asked, "Do we know what his status is?"

Gino tried to answer the best he could, but there were still details being determined. "He's been seen by a doctor. There's a discernible break, but he's still waiting for x-rays. He could be looking at surgery if it's bad enough." Then, he said to Lucy in a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll try to hurry things along for you. Okay?"

She nodded gratefully. "Thanks, Gino. That'd be a huge help."

With his permission, she walked back into the triage, finding her dad upright in Bed 2 just as Gino said. Talia stayed behind, allowing Lucy the chance to check on her father privately. It was probably better that way because there was a chance her father would react negatively to her presence. She'd rather not have had a witness to that.

As she feared her father was not pleased with her arrival. He greeted her with a sigh, a shake of his head, and said wearily, "Your mother shouldn't have called you."

It stung enough that tears pricked the corner of hers eyes. She swallowed them down with a muffled cough. This was her dad, and despite their differences, she loved him and wanted his approval. They'd been close before, but the distance between them had begun when she deferred her masters program. It only widened with every passing year, and by the time she joined the police academy, it was a chasm. Before Christmas, they had at least managed to be cordial. Now, she was not afforded even the courtesy of eye contact.

"Daddy, please," she coaxed after asking to know who had hurt him, "This isn't the time to argue." The law was clear. An assault had occurred. He was holding back the assaulter's identity out of a place of protection, but concealing their identity only opened him up to the possibility of more danger. What if it happened again? What if the next time was worse?

His response was to tell her what he'd said when she'd first joined the academy.

"The system is broken. It is not made for this."

"So, what? Do you want to pretend that this didn't happen?"

"Better that than let you lock him up."

He was adamant on the point, and she would get no more from him. Complaining of pain, he asked her to leave. There was more Lucy had wanted to say, but she knew it would've fallen on deaf ears; her father's beliefs about the system were pretty entrenched, and this was not the time or the place to debate him. She knew he thought less of her since becoming a police officer, but it wasn't like she was looking to arrest whoever had done this just for some power trip. She wasn't on this justice kick for her father's sake, but legally, a crime had taken place, and she had an oath to keep.

To be fair, though, she was torn on the matter. Her father's complaints -that the system was broken, that it wasn't made to support people with mental illness, and the inference that it criminalized mental instability- were informed not just by opinion, but supported by truth. With a defeated nod, she did as he requested, and began to retreat from his bed without another word.

The shaking came on suddenly. The earth pitched from side to side. Around her came the sound of shrieks as people scrambled for cover. Lucy lunged forward. The space between her and her father was not so great that she had trouble closing it as the ground quaked beneath them, and once she reached him, she covered his body with her own, shielding his head with her arms until the shaking had stopped. When it seemed that the earthquake had passed (a minute that felt like forever, no matter how many quakes she'd lived through by now), Lucy pulled herself away from her dad.

She was bashful to admit it, even to herself, but in the seconds following the quake, her thoughts went to Tim first. Because of the mutual aid call he was out of contact for the day, and wherever he was likely didn't have the benefit of being retrofitted like the hospital. While she'd made it through unscathed, she had no way of knowing for sure how he'd held up. She made quick work of Nolan's watch, fumbling ungracefully with nervous fingers to undo the band and check her timer. She exhaled in relief when she saw it still showed green and zeroes. Wherever he was, he was alive. Although she couldn't be sure he wasn't hurt, that was solace in itself.

"Are you all right?" she asked her dad next. He nodded, and she stepped aside again, turning her back to him before taking out her phone and shooting Tim a text.

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

The message bounced back at first. It made her anxious, but she tried to chalk up the return as the cell towers being overwhelmed. Lots of people were doing what she was doing now. Checking up on the people they cared about, contacting loved ones to make sure they were safe and unharmed. With only the still-green timer as assurance, she'd have to carry on to the best of her ability. Hopefully he would make contact soon.

A few seconds later, Talia entered the triage.

"You okay, Boot?" she asked. Lucy nodded. Talia looked at her father then, asking, "Mr. Chen, are you holding up all right?"

Her father pursed his lips. Once again, a wordless nod was his answer.

A knock at the window caught their attention and prompted them to step outside. Gino was having a crowd control issue with the influx of patients at reception; he was hoping the officers would be able to help. Talia led the way and took control of the situation with Lucy's support. She prayed silently for cooperation from the patients and was lucky that each did as instructed, forming a single file line in order of arrival. It made it much easier for Gino and the other nurses to course through the crowd, determining who could wait to be seen and who needed assistance immediately.

It took some doing, but a new process of patient admittance was put into place. Although there were several injuries, the crowd remained calm thanks to Talia's quick thinking and intervention. It was over an hour before Lucy caught a free moment to return to her father's bedside. As she walked towards his room, she passed the young man from earlier. His girlfriend was beside him. What were their names again? She quickly searched her memory, having taken their names down for the report… oh yes. Nadim and Mario. She noticed at a glance that Mario's color had improved, likely thanks to the fluids he was receiving through the IV to his left. He'd regained enough strength to sit up with some assistance from the hospital bed's incline support, but it would most likely be several days before he could be safely discharged. Nadim herself looked refreshed; she was no doubt glad to have her boyfriend on the mend, and she clasped one of his hands tightly within both of her own.

"Sorry to interrupt," Lucy said while knocking twice. "How's he feeling?"

Nadim answered on his behalf. "Better. Thank you for saving him."

Mario asked Lucy, "What's going to happen to my mom?" It spoke to the young man's character that, even after what she'd done, he was concerned for his mother.

"She's in custody for now," she replied.

"Will she go to prison?"

This was more complicated to answer. The last thing she wanted to do was give him false hope one way or the other, so her response was intentionally guarded. "It depends. The charges are pretty serious… but, her state of mind will be considered. It's up to you, but if you wanted to advocate on her behalf, it's possible she could avoid prison altogether and get the treatment she needs."

Nadim didn't seem fond of this potential outcome, but Mario relaxed once Lucy had finished explaining. What came next remained to be seen, and much of it had to do with the steps Mario took next. He thanked her, and after excusing herself, she continued on her way to her dad's room, but was just outside the door when her phone dinged, informing her of an incoming text message. She looked at the screen and felt her shoulders sag, her worries alleviated when she saw Tim's name.

I'm okay. Nolan too. Are you?

She tried not to smile over the fact that he included Nolan in his update.

All's well here.she replied.

Her father was upright when she entered the room with what she hoped was a friendly smile. In truth, she was tense. She doubted his feelings toward her had improved in the hour she'd been gone, but she had to try.

"Gino said you're scheduled for surgery tonight. That's good, right?" Her dad shrugged but did not reply. "Look, I know you're disappointed in me." He made a face as she referenced his disgust, evident as it was from the second she entered the room. "I know this isn't what you and Mom wanted me to do, but you always taught me to be true to myself and… this is who I am. I love being a cop," she said through tears. "You hate the system because it punishes people instead of caring for them, but that'll never change unless people like me change it." Lucy recognized there were issues, some of them pretty deep-seated. It was a system designed to deal in absolutes, but it left no room for the countless nuances of human beings; the laws were handed down in black and white, but true justice required gray areas, and the current way of operating left little room for that.

Her dad spoke. "I could hear you. Talking with the boy down the hall. You were honest with him about his mother. It… impressed me."

She had little time to revel in his muted praise because just then, someone knocked on the door. Both of them turned to see a man in the doorway holding flowers and looking a little nervous.

"Doctor Chen?" he greeted anxiously.

That set Lucy's suspicions off. Only Lucy and her mother knew her father was in the hospital, as far as she knew.

Though it caused him pain to do so, her father sat up quickly. "William," he said, a tone of worry coloring his voice, "I told you not to come."

Although she already had a good guess at who William was, Lucy needed to know for sure. With some reluctance, she asked, "Dad, who is this?"

"A friend," he said. She recognized it as a lie the second it left his lips.

William stammered out half an apology, "I'm so sorry," he started, but was quickly shushed by her dad.

It was confirmation enough for her to ask, "William, did you hurt my father?"

His anxiety became tearful. "It was an accident."

There was nothing she could do. Not really. She'd begged her father to tell her who had hurt him, but knew he'd never say. It was a stalemate she was willing to live with, but now her hand was being forced. If only William had listened to her father; if only he'd stayed away. Now, she was left with no other option. Without a word, she approached and handcuffed him, ignoring the way her father's pleading pulled at her.

"I don't have a choice," she whispered, and felt a pang of agony go straight through her heart when her dad's stare turned icy. He glared at her with a gaze of pure loathing. He'd never looked at her like that before. "I'll be right here when you're surgery is done, okay?" She meant it as an olive branch, but he refused it.

"Don't bother," he said with finality and looked away.

William cried the entire way to the precinct, sobbing quietly in the backseat as they took him to the station. His face was red and splotchy as Lucy checked him in, his eyes downcast and blurry with tears throughout the entire process. He'd used his phone call to contact his mother. She would be coming down to post bail, but procedure being procedure, Lucy had no choice but to keep him in a cell until she came. She thought of her dad's cries in the hospital, his fear that police intervention would traumatize him. She hoped he was wrong.

He probably wasn't.

The entire day had been thrown into disarray by the earthquake. The station had held up, but there was damage to be repaired to a few of the light fixtures in the bullpen. Rather than sit under any of the bulbs that were dangling precariously, Lucy took a seat at a table in the briefing room to complete the paperwork from her arrests. She paid special attention to William's file. Midway through, Talia came into the room and noted how she had five pages for her second arrest; a typical report only had three.

"I'm including a mental health addendum," she replied simply.

Talia's expression changed subtly after Lucy had told her this, a shift in her features so minute it was nearly imperceptible. She asked, "Are you trying to get back into your dad's good graces?"

As if that could be done with a single gesture. "He wasn't wrong. William needs help, not prison. I want to make sure he gets what he needs."

This answer seemed to mollify Talia. "Good." Seeing Lucy's confusion, she smirked ever so slightly. "Come on. Did you really think Bradford has a monopoly on tests?" She began to step away.

"Ma'am," Lucy called, pausing until Talia turned to face her before saying, "If I can ask… why did you tell Tim about why I wear Nolan's watch?"

Again, Talia kept her expression inscrutable. "Now, how in the hell did that come up?"

"Tim might have mentioned it a few weeks ago," she explained a little sheepishly. "I just didn't get a chance to ask before now."

She folded her hands over her belt before taking a step in Lucy's direction. "You want the whole truth, Boot?"

She nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Okay." She eyed Lucy just a moment longer, allowing her the chance to back out before proceeding with her response. "I wanted him to face how much he hurt you in the beginning." It wasn't the answer she'd was expecting, but Talia moved on quickly to explain, leaving her no time to dwell on it. "I know I said a lot of things about soulmates, and I still think the concept of a timer is more of a racket than it is reliable, but it was never that I didn't think you'd be good for Tim someday in the future. I wasn't sure that he'd be good for you."

That… well, to put it succinctly, Lucy would have never anticipated that as being the reason. She wasn't sure Tim would be good for her? What didthateven mean? Good, how? She stumbled over half of a reply and a few stammered, incomplete questions, but Talia continued and she again fell silent in order to listen.

"He was in stasis long before you came along. I mean, even before everything with Isabel he was pretty set in his ways. Now look at him. I've worked with him for years, and this is the first time he's shown ambition outside of patrol. There's no denying that he's changed since meeting you, especially lately, but I don't think it's because you, I don't know… fixed him or something. That's not how I see it, at least."

"No?"

"Not at all. He wasn't broken. He was stuck. And look," she exhaled a weary breath, "I still think you should keep your walls up until your rookie year is done for both of your sakes, but that's just me. I'm not your boss. I can't tell you what to do," she paused to chuckle sardonically, "and I know better than to try to stop Bradford when he gets his mind set on something."

Lucy tapped her pen on the table a few times, taking in her answer in its entirety. There was enough in the response for her to spend the whole night tearing it apart, parsing all the way down to the most insignificant details. While she considered it, Talia waited patiently, ready to respond to any other questions she had. There was only one, and she asked it shyly.

"What did you mean by saying you don't think I fixed him?"

A hint of a smile lifted the corner of Talia's mouth. "It's not that complicated, Chen. So I don't think you fixed him. Tim didn't need fixed. I think you inspire him. Isn't that better?"

Chapter 23: Checklist

Notes:

"Don't give up on me
'Cuz I'm just in a rut
I'm climbing but the walls keep stacking up"
- "Rut", The Killers

Chapter Text

Captain Weatherby was out as captain, and thank God for that. Lucy learned the news on her drive home after finishing up her reports. She was on Wilshire Boulevard when Tim called. She put him on speaker, secretly grateful to hear his voice.

"Want some good news?" he asked.

"Sure."

"Weatherby's moving up."

Lucy let out a soft "Hurray" and a small laugh. "Gone, and not a moment too soon," she said. "So, I guess you're stuck with me a little longer, huh?"

"Try not to sound so disappointed."

It was tempting to tease him, but she didn't have it in her today. The stress of the earthquake, the latest fallout with her father… every moment of the day had been difficult, the toll it took emotionally so visceral she felt physically drained. Her reply was simple, but sincere.

"I'm not," she said, then admitted in a whisper, "I'm glad."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I wanted to stay with you."

The officer who replaced Weatherby was much more hands-off than either he or Captain Andersen had been, and that fact was a double-edged sword. On the one hand it was almost a blessing; Sergeant Grey was a more-than-capable leader for all the officers on patrol, and could better serve the cops under his command when he was not being over-governed by his superiors. The downside was when things went wrong (as they inevitably, invariably would on occasion), it left his officers a little exposed with only the Sergeant as protection.

That turned out to be the case a few days later. The morning briefing was due to start in a couple of minutes, but a commotion had captured the attention of the entire precinct. Tim's gaze was directed toward the staircase when Lucy caught up to him.

"What's going on?" she asked, standing between him and Bishop, casting curious glances toward both of them.

"Internal Affairs arrested Jenkins," Talia said, her disbelief evident.

She followed their gazes. A man was being led down in handcuffs, flanked by two officers, and trailed by Commander West. They withdrew to the captain's office. Once the door closed behind them, everyone dispersed. Patrol went to the briefing room, the excitement over for now, although the air still crackled with tense energy as Sergeant Grey and the Commander entered the room. There was no joking preceding the meeting. No chatter, no laughs. Everyone was on edge as Commander West took the podium with Grey standing beside him. Both men were stern and stoic as the meeting came to order.

It would not be a standard day; that much was clear as the situation was explained in further detail to all the officers. Detective Jenkins had lied on the witness stand, and his falsehoods had caused an innocent woman to be convicted of first-degree murder. Lucy felt horror wash over her as they learned the woman, Samantha Bennett, had been convicted and served ten years in prison for a crime she did not commit. Jenkins' name was put on something called the Brady list. When Lucy asked what that meant, Talia summed it up as being comprised solely of the names of dirty cops. Of all the convictions Jenkins had secured during his time as a detective, three so far had been found faulty and were overturned. As a result, the three felons receiving suspicious convictions were released.

Protocol demanded that the LAPD make contact with the people who were released. Tim and Lucy were assigned to check in with a man named Max Kegel who had previously been in for life on drug trafficking charges. They went to his home first, where a neighbor informed them he had been taken to the hospital the night before.

As they walked through the halls of Shaw Memorial, Lucy asked Tim how studying was going for the Sergeant's exam.

"It's going," he said vaguely. "What about yours?"

"… It's going," she replied, equally avoidant. She was still reviewing her rook book daily, but in all honesty she and the others had let their study habits fall sort of to the wayside. Both men were in relationships now and consequently spent most of their time after work with their respective significant others. Jackson and Gino were still going strong, and Nolan had started seeing the contractor who helped them during the manhunt a few weeks back. She didn't begrudge them their date nights and had no room to complain or accuse them of slacking; not when she herself had put off studying once or twice in favor of spending time with Tim.

He side-eyed her with suspicion. "Boot," he said, his tone a warning. "Tell me you're studying."

Her response came out in a mumble. "It's been really busy lately."

"Too busy to study for your job?"

Like you're one to talk,she thought, deflecting his question as she stated, "I'm not the only one with an exam coming up. I don't think I've seen you pick up a bookever."

"That's different," he said grumpily, and the subject was shelved as they neared Mr. Kegel's room.

When Commander West had assigned them to follow up with a drug trafficker, Lucy had expected someone a little more hardened. The man in front of her looked like a strong cold would kill him, let alone a bout of food poisoning severe enough to require hospitalization. Despite his apparent illness, he was upright and practically chipper when the officers entered his hospital room. In a reaction that made Lucy wary, the woman at his side -his wife, they were astonished to learn- had stiffened the moment they came into view.

They were only a minute or two into checking in when Mr. Kegel's doctor returned and asked to speak with Tim and Lucy. Out of earshot, the doctor informed them that Kegel's mystery illness was not the result of bad clams like he thought, but actual poison. Specifically, a pesticide.

With a resigned sigh, Tim called to Kegel's wife. "Mrs. Kegel, would you come out here, please?"

She declined at first, a refusal that made both Tim and Lucy roll their eyes before they returned to Kegel's bedside. They quickly determined that Alicia Kegel had intentionally poisoned her husband, and that the entire marriage had been a ploy to get her overbearing mother to back off. It was a strange turn for the visit to take, Lucy thought as she snapped the cuffs onto Alicia's wrists, and felt a small measure of sympathy for Max, who fell back on his pillow with a crestfallen expression as they escorted his wife out.

As Commander West had warned, it was a little chaotic in the station when they returned. Word had gotten out that Detective Jenkins was on the Brady list; unsurprisingly, a handful of local news vans were parked outside the station when they returned. A few defense attorneys milled about the lobby, each with the aim of overturning a Jenkins conviction for their own clients. Tim was only too happy to rush through Mrs. Kegel's processing to speed up their return to patrol.

The call they received first took them to Rustic Ranch Paintball Park for an assault. Whenever she heard the words "assault", typically a picture came to Lucy's mind. Usually it was a fist fight, so she expected to encounter a few bruises, maybe a bloody nose or two. Upon entering the park they were greeted by a small group of men in camouflage. They had surrounded the assault victim, a man named Carl. It was not a bruise or broken nose he'd gotten, but a tree branch protruded from just underneath his shoulder, piercing the triangle of flesh that connected his arm to his chest.

"Whoa," she exclaimed, her response so quick she had no time to temper it with something more professional. "Did you call an ambulance?"

They had. While Lucy instructed them to avoid pulling the branch out, Tim asked where the guy who'd done it had gone. His name was Jimmy, one of the men said, and pointed towards the course.

"Out there somewhere," he replied. "Camo jacket, skeleton face guard."

They went up the mountain a brisk pace. As they walked, Lucy asked Tim, "Have you ever played paintball?"

"Why are you asking?"

She shrugged. "Just making conversation, I guess. Figured if you had, it would help us find our guy."

He motioned towards the course and scoffed dismissively. "This? This is amateur hour. I'd smoke these guys."

Lucy bit back a grin as she replied, "You'd 'smoke them'?"

"Absolutely. I'd kick their asses."

She chuckled. "Sort of cocky coming from a man who's never played the game."

He shot her a look, then pointed at a woman trying to sneak through the brush. "Exhibit A. She thinks approaching from the rear gives her a tactical advantage. Three, two, one." As if on cue, the player took two colorful rounds to her back. "If she had taken the high ground to the north, that wouldn't have happened."
"Well, we know Jimmy isn't the average player. Those guys said the game is his life."

"Exactly," Tim said with a smirk, then picked up his speed, closer to a jog than a walk now. "Follow me."

He led them to the higher ground he referenced. A building had been constructed on the top of the hill. It was the perfect place for looking out and keeping scope on the competition. Exactly the sort of place a particularly competitive player would hide.

Lucy opened the door. Pellets just barely missed her, paint balls exploding on impact to her immediate right.

Tim's hand flew to his taser. "LAPD," he said, his tone gruff and threatening. "The next person who fires goes to jail."

Hands went up, rifles high. No one would shoot now.

"Where's the guy in the skeleton mask?" he asked.

One of the players replied, "Behind you", and they turned to see their suspect making a break for it. Tim grabbed a paintball rifle from one of the players and nailed him in the back in three rapid shots. His camo turned pink where the pellets struck.

Jimmy dropped his gun and put his hands up. He surrendered with a muffled, "ow".

"Wow," Lucy said to Tim, legitimately impressed with his accuracy.

He gave her a smug look as he took the handcuffs off of his belt and walked towards Jimmy. "I told you."

She decided to surprise him the next day they had off. It was a Sunday, and she stopped by unannounced, calling him from the driveway after pulling in behind his truck.

"Hey," she began when he picked up. "Are you busy today?"

"Not really. Something up?"

She honked her horn twice. A few seconds later, he peered out of the living room window, and she waved.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Even from the driver's seat, she could see the slight smile on his face.

"I have a surprise for you, and you just told me you're not busy, so…"

He laughed. "Give me a second. I'll be right out."

A few minutes later, he joined her in the drive. "What's going on?" he asked.

Lucy beckoned him to follow her around her car, explaining as she went.

"I need to study. So do you, for that matter." He started to protest, but she shushed him, "Anyway, I figured that we…" a pause as she opened the trunk, "should have one last hurrah before we both buckle down." Inside the trunk, she'd stored everything they needed for one kickass game of paintball. Helmets, padding, face shields, and one rifle each.

He agreed with a grin, on one condition. "I get to drive." Lucy didn't argue. Her Datsun was her baby, but there was no denying Tim's truck was a nicer ride.

"Okay, but I pick the music," she countered, and despite his playful grumbling, she caught him singing along to her playlist more than once during the drive.

They stayed at the paintball park for hours. Tim proved correct the assertion that he'd "smoke" any amateur that crossed his sights. Lucy was no slouch either, more than holding her own in the pretend battle that ensued. When they returned to his truck as the park closed down, she was tired but happy, even though the exertion and the gear had made her look and feel a little disheveled. Once she was in the passenger seat, she undid her braid and began to brush one hand through the ends, then reached up with her free hand to bring down the passenger side visor. A piece of paper fluttered into her lap, landing face up on her knee. It was a 3x5 inch photo of her, a picture she recognized within a second as one Angela had taken on New Years Eve, snapping it in her bathroom after she'd finished styling Lucy's hair.

"What's that?" Tim asked, then got noticeably red-faced when she tilted it his way to show him. "Angela," he groaned in explanation.

Lucy laughed. "I take it you didn't know this was here?"

"Lopez and I went for drinks the other night. I drove. It's probably her idea of a prank." He glanced at the picture and, despite some effort to conceal it on his part, smiled a little.

She held it out to him. "Do you want to keep it?"

Without a word, he took the photograph out of Lucy's hands and tucked it into the driver's side mirror. Tim stared at it for a moment with an inexplicable expression on his face before he put his key in the ignition and started the truck.

The conflict with Jenkins had consequences no one could have anticipated, affecting the two of them in different measures both professionally and personally. Personally, they were shaken to learn that Talia was being disciplined for leaving her foster brother off her personal history questionnaire. It was an oversight that left them both uneasy, an old deception that didn't line up with the honesty and integrity they associated with Officer Bishop.

"I just don't think it's fair what's happening to her." Lucy said to him as they walked toward the briefing room. They had passed Talia on their way from the locker rooms, but neither had given her more than a silent nod in her direction.

Tim agreed, but he was also guarded. "It's strict for a reason, Boot. If you can't be honest on your paperwork, how can you be honest on the job?"

A fair enough point, but, "She's a good officer," she defended. "One of the best. She hadn't even seen her foster brother in years. How is it justice for her career to get derailed over one thing ten years ago?" He didn't answer, because what could he say? Neither of them made the rule, and nothing they said would stave off disciplinary action. Whatever happened to Talia, it was out of their control.

The fallout from Jenkins continued during the briefing. Orders from the Chief came down to all departments, and effective immediately, probationary officers would need to finish the checklist before they could take the six month exam; no longer did she have the entire twelve month period to complete the training and experience checklist, as had been the standard previously. Out of all three rookies, Lucy had the most items to earn. If she failed to complete the checklist, she risked getting held back, extending her probationary year by at least another thirty days. Sergeant Grey had instructed dispatch to filter the calls they needed to the probationary officers, but by the time they broke for lunch around one, Lucy had made no progress. Zero items were checked off, leaving her with seven items to complete between the afternoon and end of shift tomorrow. A task that had looked unlikely this morning now seemed impossible, and her momentum was only further thrown when she and Jackson raced each other to a carjacking call and found the victim facedown on the sidewalk.

Jackson arrived on the scene first. She skidded to a halt beside him just as he managed to carefully turn the man over onto his back, and both of them inhaled sharply when they recognized the victim. There was no mistaking his face, even when it was bruised and bloodied.

"Oh my God," Lucy whispered, recognizing Nolan's friend at once. "Ben."

Jackson called in the ambulance while she focused her efforts on keeping Ben calm and still. His face was bleeding, one of his eyes was swelling shut, and his glasses lay broken several feet away. They had been crushed at some point during the assault, either by his attacker or someone in the crowd. Tim and Angela joined Jackson and Lucy on the scene just as she helped him sit up. By then, she had slipped into a pair of gloves, and someone from the nearby coffee shop had come to their aid with a stack of clean paper towels. She applied gentle pressure to the wounds while speaking to Ben in the softest, most encouraging voice she could manage. He showed signs of a concussion, and she needed to keep him awake until the ambulance came.

"It's going to be okay, Ben. Help will be here soon." she said just as Tim crouched next to her. "Is there anyone I should call?"

"Can you call John," he whispered hoarsely.

She nodded, then glanced at Tim. "He's a friend of Nolan's." Lucy didn't need to say more for him to understand. He stepped away to place the call while she continued to tend to and comfort him.

"You're John's pretty friend, right?" Ben asked.

She tried not to smile, knowing it was the head injury talking more than anything else. "You sure you don't mean Jackson?"

"You know," he slurred, "I have a house in the Hamptons. Do you like houses?"

"I love houses."

"You want to come to my Hamptons house."

Despite the seriousness of the circumstance, Lucy giggled. "Are you asking me or telling me, Ben?"

"Neither. I'm using my Jedi mind-trick on you." He gave a slow wag of his eyebrows that made him wince. "Is it working?"

Before she could answer, Tim returned. "Nolan knows. I'll update him once paramedics come. How is he holding up?"

"Well, so far he's begging to take me to the Hamptons," she replied, trying and failing not to smirk, especially as Tim looked thoroughly unamused by the offer.

Tim had gotten a tip from a friend at the 77th, directing him to a nearby neighborhood where more cars had been stolen in the last month than the whole year in Mid-Wilshire. She ran every plate they spotted but nothing came up. Lucy was just about to write the whole thing off as a waste when she finally got a hit on a plate directly in front of them. They pulled her over, and by the time Lucy reached the driver's side window, the woman at the wheel was in tears. The car wasn't stolen, she explained in a shaky voice. She and her husband only had the money to register one car. When that one broke down, she didn't know what else to do.

Lucy tried to appear stoic as she took the woman's license and paperwork before stepping away to convene with Tim. "I don't want to do this," she said in a whisper, "She's just trying to make ends meet." Then she asked, "What would you do?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you that, Boot. You have to make the call. So what's it going to be? You can write her a ticket and check a box, or let her go and…" he trailed off. The fear of failure didn't need verbalized for her to feel it acutely.

Even so, it wasn't a hard choice for her to make, no matter what it might have cost her. She didn't want to be a cop that worried about checking lists and meeting a deadline. That wasn't why she signed up. That wasn't who she wanted to be.

So… it wouldn't be, she decided. Starting now, it wouldn't be, and hopefully that choice wouldn't deflate her career before it even got off the ground. Lucy returned the woman's license and registration, gave her a verbal warning, and let her go.

"That qualified as an ethical dilemma." Tim told her as they watched the woman drive off. "You checked a box."

It was a hollow victory. "One down, six to go."

She went to bed that night with a sense of foreboding. By the morning, it had grown into full-blown dread. She and Tim basically ran out of the briefing room after the morning meeting to beat the rush to the kit counter. There was only a few hours left for her to qualify for the exam and every second counted.

Whether it was dumb luck or good karma, Lucy didn't know. Whatever it was, it finally came through for her that afternoon when they received a call that took them downtown. The woman they found hit several of the items on her list all at once. She'd stolen her boyfriend's car, hit a fire hydrant, falsely identified herself to officers, stole a motorized scooter (technically a carjacking), and threw the scooter into Tim's shin, which counted as assault on an officer (he was fine, a tiny bruise to his leg, and a larger one to his pride). Laid out in itemized fashion like that, it sounded callous to call it "good", even in her own head, but the call was the equivalent to the jackpot for her. It pushed Lucy right to the edge of succeeding in the course of a single arrest. Her streak of turned fortunes was short-lived, though, and she ended the shift just one item shy of finishing.

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes as she trudged down the hall to return their gear. Her shoulders were heavy with fatigue and weariness, resigning herself to her failure. She'd gotten so close and missed by one item. She'd be extended by thirty days, and that would go on her record. She wouldn't qualify for the exam next week, and the next one wasn't scheduled for another month.

To come so close and still fail was worse than missing the mark by miles, she thought sadly.

It wasn't just that she'd failed herself. For all the work she'd done over the past two days -and over the course of the last six months- she knew Tim had worked just as hard. Sure, he'd been tough on her sometimes, and yes, his standards were almost impossibly high, but she wanted to meet them. Hell, not just meet, she wanted toexceedthem. Falling short now didn't just make her feel like she'd failed at her job. It made Lucy feel like she'd let Tim down.

He caught her by the counter just as she handed the bag over to the officer manning the desk. "What the hell are you doing, Boot?" he asked sternly. "You're still one shy on your checklist."

"Shift's over," she replied, puzzled by his statement and his tone of voice. "It's too late."

To this, he smirked. "We fight until the bell rings, Chen. Come on. Grey approved the OT. We're getting you that meth possession." He jerked his head once towards the kit counter. "Get our shop loaded up. Roll out in five."

She did as he instructed, rushing to reload their gear before taking her seat and waiting for him. When Tim failed to return in a timely manner, she went looking for him, finding him in the dispatch office. His back was to the door and he stood beside Nell, who was seated at her desk but had gathered her bag and jacket while preparing to leave. Lucy did not enter the room, but she did linger close by in the hall. It had been months since they'd stopped by dispatch, with the last time being midway through the round up. She'd been so disappointed with him that day, hating how he flirted with Nell in an effort to win a game. Had it been naive of her to think he'd grown beyond those habits?

Then she heard him say, "Come on, Nell. Please. Lucy needs this."

Oh,she thought, and her heart warmed in her chest as she smiled to herself. She'd been expecting to hear him flirting with the pretty dispatcher to curry favor, but no. He'd referenced Lucy by her name; not Boot, not Chen, but Lucy, and he was pleading openly on her behalf. It was sort of sweet. Sweet, and a stark, undeniable contrast from how he'd behaved all those months ago. Back then, he'd used all his charm and good looks to get his way. Now, he did no such thing.

As he pleaded, she considered how else he'd grown since they met, remembering what Talia had told her the day of the earthquake. It was hard to picture the person Bishop painted him to be that day; someone who had stagnated, content to stand still while the world changed around him. This Tim -driven, passionate, motivated- was the only one she'd ever known. There was no other version of him in her eyes. Could that really be her influence in his life? Did she, as he did for her, inspire him to do and be more?

If Bishop was right, the answer was yes. She doubted it was that simple. It never was with them, but there was no denying he'd changed, too.

From her chair, Nell spotted Lucy in the hall. She ducked away from her gaze, but it was too late; she'd been seen. When she peered around the door again, her eyes met Lucy's and she smiled.

"I'll do what I can for her," Nell sweetly agreed. "Okay, Bradford?"

He clapped his hands once in victory. "Yes! Thank you. You're the best." He turned to go and didn't seem surprised when he noticed Lucy, just took off down the hall at a jog. "Come on, Boot!" She followed behind him, having to run just to keep up with his long strides.

Nell came through for her just before midnight. A woman had been found laying on the sidewalk outside an apartment complex. After ascertaining she wasn't suffering some sort of medical episode, Lucy tried to make her stand. She did as she asked, but could not maintain an upright position for more than a few seconds. It quickly became clear the woman was under the influence of some yet-unknown substance. She refused a breathalyzer, but the stench of alcohol on her breath was unmistakable. Suspecting that she was inebriated, the law allowed Lucy to search her, and she found a dime bag in the pocket of her denim skirt.

She showed the baggie to Tim, grinning widely. "Meth possession." It was a small amount, but it was enough to check the box.

Tim reached for the radio on his belt. "7-Adam-19 to dispatch," he began, then followed with, "Go on home, Nell. She did it." he said, his pride apparent. Her pulse quickened hearing his praise, spoken over the radio for everyone to hear. "She fucking did it." Congratulations from other officers poured in, with Sergeant Grey chiming in to cheer her on.

They returned to the station and got the woman booked in for possession and public intoxication before clocking out. Her checklist was complete. She wouldn't be held back, and she could take the exam with the rest of the rookies. Lucy felt fatigued down to her bones, but the adrenaline of accomplishment, of succeeding despite insurmountable odds made her steps seem light.

As they walked towards the locker rooms, she turned to Tim. "I feel like I owe you a drink for the late night," Lucy said, hoping he'd say yes.

"Just a drink?" he replied with a chortle. "I'd say you owe me dinner."

"Dinner? Really?"

"How does tomorrow night sound?" he offered. "I'll cook."

"You'll cook?" A smile pulled at her lips as she asked slyly, "How is that me owing you dinner?"

"Good point," he replied, then said with a satisfied smirk, "I guess you'll get the next one." Before he turned to go, he said, "You know I'm proud of you, right?"

A flush crept into her cheeks. "I sort of figured as much, but it's still nice to hear."

"Hey," he said, turning to stand square to her as he finished earnestly, "I'm really proud of you."

She gave him a curt nod before whispering through a thick throat, "Thank you, sir. That means a lot coming from you."

"Because I'm such a good TO?"

"Sure, that's part of it," she agreed. Then, emboldened by her achievement and maybe a little delirious from the late hour, Lucy added, "You know what it really is though?"

"I bet you're going to tell me."

"You're right," she said. "I figured out I've been trying to make you as proud of me as I am of you."

She had had a feeling he would never have guessed her response, and her inkling was proven correct when his eyebrows shot up, conveying his surprise. "The things you've done?" she explained, "All the loss, and the grief, and the shit you've had to overcome just since I've met you?" In the last six months alone, she'd watched him walk through fire and come through it, if not unscathed, at least whole. There was so much more she could say; more that shewantedto say, but she was hesitant to delve into the details inside the station, where anyone might see or overhear them. Besides, she didn't need to relive and repeat the events of their past for him. That much was clear by the quiet look of understanding that crossed his face. So she held back on the specifics, leaving them unsaid, and instead only smiled up at him softly.

It was a tenderness that deepened as his gaze searched her face, his irises going slightly glassy when she whispered, "I'm proud of you, too."

Chapter 24: "I'm with you till the dashes."

Notes:

"I'm ready to lose
Everything but you."
- "Ready to Lose", Ingrid Michaelson

Chapter Text

"You know," Lucy said to him the next night, "when you told me you'd cook for me, I imagined you slaving over a stovetop in a frilly apron. Not grilling."

Not that she was complaining. It was a nice space he'd set up here, homey and inviting, even in the open air. While the dining room inside Tim's house was sparse and minimal in the way of decor, the backyard had received great attention and care. It was mostly hardscaping, but what ground had been left untouched was kept clear of weeds and brush. A few tall trees lined the fence that divided his yard from his neighbors houses, offering shade and privacy, and a rope hammock was suspended between two of them. Strands of Edison bulbs had been strung from the house to the lower branches. Although it was still thirty minutes until sunset, the lights cast a golden glow that would be amplified with nightfall.

He stood facing the grill that was set up on the side of the patio farthest from the door. Lucy sat a few feet away at the outdoor dining table, having taken one of the four available seats while she worked her way through her first beer.

Tim feigned offense as he turned to shoot her a look that was playfully warning. "My frilly apron is at the cleaners, and grilling counts as cooking."

"Uh, grilling is grilling."

"Do you want to take over?" He pretended to offer her the tongs, but she waved him off with a smile.

"I'm just kidding, Tim." She stood to her feet, leaving her empty bottle behind as she peered over his shoulder at the food resting on the grate. "It looks good, whatever it is."

"I'll try not to be offended that you sound shocked," he replied with a grin.

She turned away from him then, walking towards the hammock and stretching out upon it. It was a beautiful night to be outside; warm, but not hot, and a soft breeze whispered through the trees above her. The hammock swung rhythmically in gentle side to side motions, nearly in synch with the music playing from a bluetooth speaker Tim had brought outside. He'd chosen an Ella Fitzgerald album, which fit her mood perfectly. Lucy closed her eyes as she rocked, singing only loud enough for her to hear herself.

"Birds singing in the sycamore tree," she hummed along with Ella. "Dream a little dream of me."

She could get used to this, she thought to herself as she curled one arm beneath her head and breathed deeply. Not the hammock (although the hammock was nice). Seeing each other after hours, while hardly a new development, had until recently felt fragile enough that she was worried about ruining it somehow. Naturally, there were still boundaries they held in place, although fewer than before, and those that remained she didn't anticipate crossing any time soon. Talia was right that she should keep her guard up for her rookie year, but she was halfway through. Her six-month exam was just days away.

Was it too early to look towards the future, to ask herself what might come next? It was was something she'd so far made a conscious effort to avoid considering. Didn't want to jinx it, maybe. Perhaps it was more accurate to admit she didn't know what to expect, and therefore refused to plan. The last time she'd counted on something so far off, it had caused her deep heartache. She and Tim had managed to reconcile their histories, forging a connection despite their rocky start, but the fear of further wounding had put her off looking too far ahead. They may have been closer than ever, but neither had yet dared to broach the topic of what might come after. Their conversation on Valentine's Day, with each acknowledging that the other was available, was heavy with unspoken intentions but hardly a guarantee. Should she press for more? Was now the time to do so?

And, the most important question of all, did she evenwantthat?

Turning her head, she gazed at Tim while he cooked. She could not see his face, but she knew it well enough by now to place from memory every aspect of his features. From the blue of his eyes to the tiny gap in his front teeth that only showed when his smile was at its widest, it was the face of someone she treasured. Someone who'd walked through their darkest moments while she bore witness, whose facade of short-temperedness guarded a gentle heart and masked a profound level of empathy. He had become someone she cared for deeply, whose opinion she valued, and for whom her affection grew daily.

Of course, she decided with a contented smile as her eyes slipped closed again. She wanted it. Wanted this; wanted more, whatever that looked like.

"Sleeping while I do all the work? Rude, Chen," Tim said. She looked his way, stirred by his scolding. He was smiling at her. "Rude."

She returned his teasing with a smirk as she rose from the hammock, feeling the weight of her realization in her bones. It was a pleasant sensation, almost like the warmth she felt in those early days of knowing him, when the bond between them was still new. "I'm gonna get another beer," she said before she grabbed her empty bottle off of the table. Then, she asked him, "Do you want one?"

"Yes, please."

Lucy had just removed the tops from their beers with a can opener when the doorbell rang. Doubtful that he heard it from outside, she called out to Tim through the kitchen window. "Someone's here."

"Can you answer it please?" he hollered. "I can't walk away. The zucchini will burn."

"Oh no, not the zucchini," she joked, then set the beers on the counter. She'd grab them on the way back through.

The doorbell rang a second time, and she hustled to get it, answering with a pleasant, "Hello?" Her smile quickly faded when her eyes landed on Isabel.

Both women were shocked to see one another, but Lucy maybe more than Isabel. She felt her eyes go wide as she took in the sight of her. She looked well. Better. Healthy. It was a stark difference from the last time she'd seen her in a hospital bed, hooked up to all those machines with a bandage around her skull, and still a night and day improvement from when she saw her the day she'd booked her in. While Lucy was still processing the surprise, Isabel had recovered, and her mouth formed a small, soundless "oh" that faded into a resigned look of understanding.

They had paused without speaking in the doorway for long enough that it became uncomfortable. Eventually, Lucy spoke first, simply because she felt like she had to break the silence.

"Tim's out back," was what she led with, and held the door open for Isabel to enter. It felt odd to ask her whether she would like to come in. This was the house she'd chosen, and while she didn't know the terms of their still pending divorce, she didn't think she had a right to bar her from entering. Nor would she want to, as to do so would feel needlessly cruel, and despite everything she harbored no anger or ill-will against Isabel. Besides, in so many ways it was still Tim and Isabel's house. The touches of her lay everywhere; in the green pillows on the window seat, the wedding picture on the wall.

That had never made Lucy uncomfortable until right now. Now, as she followed Isabel through the house to the backyard, she felt like an intruder.

Tim was still at the grill when they stepped outside, first Isabel, then Lucy close behind. The vegetables were finished, but he was working on the steaks. He didn't look up at the sound of the door opening, just asked Lucy without turning, "Who was it?"

"Just me," Isabel said.

Like her, he was surprised to see his ex-wife. "Isabel," he breathed. "I-i wasn't expecting you," he stammered.

She shrugged. "Just wanted to grab some of my things." She looked at Lucy, and although her smile was tense she didn't seem upset by her presence as she said, "I didn't realize you had company."

There was the temptation for Lucy to tell her that it was nothing, just a dinner between… but the response died in her throat, becausebetween what? Friends? Isabel knew Lucy was Tim's soulmate. She'd guessed as much months ago, and Lucy herself had confirmed it. There was no way she would believe they were simply "friends". So she stayed silent, waiting to see what Tim would say. In truth, she was pretty interested to hear how he might respond.

He acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, and replied through a forced grin, "Just a little get-together between a TO and his Boot."

Oh,she thought as she deflated with disappointment. He went that route. Of all the things he could've said, he chose… that.

She did not contradict his response, but kept her expression passive as he handed the tongs to Lucy. "Watch the steaks, please?" he requested, then walked into the house, trailed by Isabel.

Left on her own, Lucy poked absently at the meat on the grate. If it had been up to her, what would she have said? She wasn't sure. "Friends" felt like an incomplete definition. A better one, if only marginally, would have been what Talia predicted at the start of all this; that they were important to one another. She stopped short of calling what they were doing "dating", but for all intents and purposes… well, what else was it? They were reaching a point of comfort and domesticity that was almost too sweet to be anything else. They were exclusive without any of the benefits of being exclusive, and while she wasn't in a particular rush to have all the bonuses (and baggage) of being a couple, just minutes ago she'd decided she wanted more. All it took was one appearance from his ex-wife to throw that into question, at least from her perspective.

Was it naive of her to have hoped for him to answer differently? Had she been premature in deciding her future with him was all but assured?

"I thought we wanted the same things," she said to Nolan and Jackson the following night. With only one day to go until the exam, they met up for a final cram session. Before they broke the books out, she brought up Tim and their interrupted dinner. He was gone for ten minutes, and by the time he returned to the patio sans Isabel, she'd ruined the steaks. They'd gone to In-n-Out instead, but he was distant and distracted the rest of the night. "I guess we never said as much, but… and then the second Isabel shows up…" After several false starts, Lucy trailed off and sighed. "Maybe I'm overthinking it."

"No. You? Overthink?" Nolan teased. "Lucy, it's probably nothing."

"No, no, it's something," she replied, then added, "but I just don't know what."

"Well…" began Jackson, "have you considered the fact that he's going through a divorce?"

"But they were separated for over a year."

"Doesn't mean he moved on during that year," said Nolan. "From what you've told us, it doesn't sound like he really let Isabel go until recently." He paused to take a sip of his beer. "Look, I know you think you've done your fair share of waiting, but try and give the guy a little grace. Things have changed so quickly for him. They only really called it 'over' when, exactly?"

"February."

"Okay, so, three months? Give or take?" Nolan shrugged. "Speaking from experience, I've only just felt ready to start dating again, and my marriage was over a lot longer than his was. I don't know if I would have been ready for Jessica after three months."

Lucy agreed with a slow nod of her head. "You're right. I know you are." She looked down at her hands, avoiding the eyes of both of her friends as she stirred her margarita with her straw. "But is it selfish of me to be tired of waiting?" She asked the question timidly, almost shyly. "I just want to know I'm not crazy. That I'm not imagining feelings where there aren't any. I guess I was hoping that I'd have a better idea of where I stand with him by now."

She glanced up just in time to catch a loaded look passing between Jackson and Nolan, a silent conversation ensuing between the two as they each weighed how to respond to her. It was Jackson who spoke next.

"Look," he started, speaking haltingly as he carefully picked his words. "Neither of us know Tim as well as you do, but… well, Lucy,we have eyes. We've seen the way he acts around you. He's not exactly subtle with his feelings. I mean, he spent the night outside Nolan's house to make sure you were safe when he was green lit."

"That's true," Nolan interjected. "And didn't you say he went apartment hunting with you?"

"Also, did you see the look on that man's face after those guys from La Eme attacked you? He damn near fell on his ass running to get to you."

All good points, she had to admit—and the memory of him skidding towards her on the mountain made her laugh. Those were only a handful of the examples that she'd either discussed with them, or that they had seen themselves. For all the things they'd been present for, there were a dozen others to which they were not privy. There were many more moments she had not shared with anyone either because they were too private or too special to spoil by talking about them. In most cases, she had chosen to dwell on them secretly until they became memories she could recall with tenderness and clarity.

It was Nolan who summed up the pair's thinking. "Look, Luce," he began, "what we're trying to get at is this: we don't think he's trying to hurt your feelings, and we don't think your instinct is wrong that you're in each other's futures. If Tim didn't want to be with you, would he have done half of those things?"

"And I'm guessing there's plenty more we don't know about," Jackson interrupted with a chuckle, "because you got all 'distant and Disney-eyed' on us just then."

Nolan elbowed him playfully before finishing. "All that to say… if you're certain this is it, why hurry?"

"And if you aren't, why not ask?"

"What are you doing tonight?" Tim asked her the next morning as they rolled out. When Lucy didn't answer quickly, he added, "Thought we'd celebrate after you take the exam. Maybe get some pizza? You can make fun of my movie collection again."

"Yeah…" she hesitated to say yes. "I don't know. Maybe."

He paused to look at her. "Something wrong, Boot?"

Not wrong, per se. "We can talk about it later."

"Chen. What's going on?"

She tried to skirt it, just as much for his sake as her own, but she knew once he got a bead on her he wouldn't drop it. Her answer was vague. "I don't want to talk about this during work."

"Since when don't you want to talk about things?"

"Since… " Well damn, it sort of felt like he was dragging it out of her. She fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve as she chose her next words carefully. "Look, we've started spending more time together lately."

"And that's bad?"

"No, it's not bad, but your ex-wife comes over and you call me your Boot."

"You are my Boot."

"And that's all?"

While moments ago he'd only looked perplexed, now he seemed closer to upset. At the very least, her question had left him flustered. "What exactly are you asking me?"

"Just that," she said. "Is that all? Is that all I am? Is that all I'll be?" When he made no attempt to reply, she clarified further. "I'm halfway through my probationary year, Tim. What's going to happen after? Is there, like… a future here?"

"With the job?"

"No. With us."

She saw the internal struggle play out plainly on his face. He stuttered out half an answer, but had said no more than "Lucy, I-" before he stopped himself. The wrestling ended, and his expression switched to neutral before he nodded to her. "You're right," he replied flatly, almost stoically. "We shouldn't talk about this right now."

She scoffed. "Wow."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. What?"

She felt her blood pressure rising, a combination of embarrassment and anger pushing her ever closer to a boiling point as she bit out, "What is it you want from me, Tim? I tell you I don't want to talk about it, and you press it. I start to open up, and then you say it's not the right time?" She ran one finger over the furrows in her brow as she groaned before saying,"Can you please not jerk me around like this today?"

"'Jerk you around'? Since when do I-

"-Only since the day that I met you," she countered. "'I don't believe in soulmates'. 'I can always see you'. 'Let's talk about it'. 'Never mind, it's the wrong time'. I swear, I need a neck brace from all the whiplash I've gotten the past six months."

"Fine," he said with a frown. "Guess I just won't say anything."

His response felt like bait, an attempt to keep her talking, but she refused rise to it. Instead, she turned away to stare out the window.

They hadn't been on patrol for long when all units were called back to the station. Something big was going down. That much was clear by the presence of Jessica Russo from Homeland Security, who stood next to Sergeant Grey at the front of the briefing room. She explained the situation in serious but speedy terms. A man named Corey Valance had arrived yesterday on a bus from Phoenix, and was suspected to be part of a homegrown terrorist cell planning an attack on Los Angeles. While Corey had been murdered shortly after arriving, there was no indication that his group had backed down from their plans to attack.

Jessica was joined by a woman who introduced herself as Dr. Morgan from the CDC. "We have no evidence that the biological agent they were transporting has been released," was how Dr. Morgan began, and the room breathed a sigh of relief that soon proved premature. "Our intelligence says they plan to strike within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The group intends to release a weaponized strain of a hemorrhagic fever.

"The primary symptom -bleeding- is also how the virus spreads," Dr. Morgan continued. "Transmission occurs through contact with bodily fluids, namely blood. The incubation period is extremely short. The pathology is gruesome, and if not treated quickly, it has a ninety-percent fatality rate."

More info was given and new orders were passed down. Sergeant Grey took charge of the meeting at the tail end. The department had been asked to be the boots on the ground while they set up a command center. The six month exam was postponed for now. Officers were permitted to warn immediate family to avoid populated areas, but details had to be kept confidential in order to avoid a panic. As soon as they were dismissed, Lucy reached for her phone and called her mom.

There was only so much she could say. "Stay home", was her repeated request, "stay out of the city." No, she couldn't tell her more. No, she wasn't in immediate danger.

Yes, she was serious.

"Lucy." The tremble in her mother's voice was clear, even over the phone, "Lucy, I'm scared."

Her heart ached hearing her fear. "I know, Mama. Please, trust me. I'll check in with you as soon as I can. I love you." She paused, scanning the room for Tim. He, like her, was on the phone. She wondered who he would have called. "Tell Dad I love him, too." Then she hung up.

While Homeland Security set up camp, so to speak, the patrol units were tasked with following up with the other bus passengers. Russo's task force had already made contact with the charter company, who provided a complete list of passengers that arrived from Phoenix that morning. The list was broken up into groups, with each unit taking two to three names. Lucy and Tim were assigned two, and their first stop was with a man named Pete Langston.

As they pulled away from the precinct, Tim asked, "Did you call your parents?"

"Just my mom," she replied. "She didn't like that I couldn't tell her details, but I think she'll listen." Then, she asked, "Who did you call?"

"Isabel." Lucy said nothing, but she must have pulled a face without realizing it because Tim added, "Don't be like that."

She bristled at his order. "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."

To that, she rolled her eyes. "Okay, I'm not going to dignify that with a response, but maybe next time your wife can call you before she comes over while I'm there."

"Do you even know why she was there?" he asked.

"To pick up her things."

"That's half of it. She came to serve me divorce papers. Her sponsor was in the car."

"… Oh."Well, shit, she thought. That explained why he'd been cold the rest of the evening. She instantly felt ashamed of her anger and frustration. "Tim…"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Don't."

She ignored him, asking, "Tim, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Seriously?" He glanced at her, but there was no anger in his gaze, only disbelief. "I didn't want you involved."

"Because you don't trust me?"

"Because you've done enough," he said. "You've done enough for me. For Isabel. My divorce, it's… it's just not something I wanted to drag you into. After everything that's happened…" He hesitated for a moment or two before confessing, "I don't know. Sometimes it feels I've been waiting for you to wise up and walk away."

Lucy's jaw fell open. "'Wise up and walk away'?" she repeated.

"I wouldn't blame you. Can't say I wouldn't be tempted if it were me in your place."

"Well, we've already established that I'm a better person than you, Bradford," she joked. He cracked a smile before she added quietly, "Haven't you figured out by now that you're not going to scare me off?"

She could tell by his face and his sharp intake of breath that she had landed on the worry directly, touching it like a raw nerve. There was more she wanted to say; hell, she would've been happy to spend the rest of their shift dismantling his fears one by one, but she had no choice but to let the subject rest for now. They'd arrived at the home of the first person on their list, and no sooner had they parked and stepped out of the shop than Mr. Langston opened the front door and met them on the steps.

He was already agitated. "Took you long enough," he barked at Tim before turning on his heel and leading them into the house.

Tim glanced back at Lucy with a raised eyebrow. To their knowledge, Pete should not have been expecting a visit from police. She hung back and let Tim take the lead, keeping her hand on her radio as Tim followed him through the living room.

"Sir," he said, "we're here about the bus you took from Phoenix."

"No kidding. I called you about the bag like six hours ago."

"Bag?"

"The bag from the bus. Looked just like mine." He looked at Tim, then Lucy, his forehead creased with confusion. "So you don't have mine?" Both of them shook their heads. "Damn it. My computer is in there." He gestured to the open backpack on his bed, showing it to Tim. "I tried to find an address, but all I found was this weird science shit. I cut my finger on some sort of vial."

It was only then that she noticed then the injury in question. How had either of them missed it until now? The cut could not have been very large, but it was concealed by a white paper towel that was gradually turning red. Then Pete began to cough.

"Tim," she said, her voice low.

He looked back at her and held his hand out. "Stay there," he ordered.

Like hell she would. If they were right, the backpack was linked to the terrorists, and if he wouldn't put space between himself and the virus, she was prepared to drag him out of there by his collar. She took a step towards him just as he looked up.

There was blood on his jacket. Only a few drops, but that didn't matter. If Pete was sick, a few drops could be all it took.

He slammed the door in her face.

"Tim, no!" She threw herself against the door, but the lock clicked. She pounded, but it didn't budge. With her ear pressed to the door, she heard Tim tell Pete that a bad flu was going around. A lie, but a necessary one to keep the man calm until they knew more. Until they knew for sure that he was infected.

God, if he was infected, and Tim had locked himself in there…

"Please, Tim," she begged, a lump in her throat as she tried the door one more time. Still locked. "Please, you need to come out."

"No way. Gotta keep this contained."

"Tim-"

"It's going to be all right, Lucy."

Another lie.

Even as he said it, she knew it was for her benefit; an attempt to offer her comfort. She knew he didn't believe it at all, but he was stuck behind a bolted door, depending on her to keep the situation -and herself- under control.

She brought her radio up to her mouth. "7-Adam-19, patch me through to task force."

A second later, the radio crackled with a response. "Task force to 7-Adam-19, this is Russo."

"Agent Russo, this is Officer Chen. It looks like we have our first infection. Bus passenger named Pete Langston, was on the bus from Phoenix with our suspect and seems to have grabbed his bag by mistake." A deep breath, then she spoke through the lump in her throat. "Officer Bradford may also have been exposed. Please send assistance to 1151 Crane Court." She put the radio back on her hip and pressed her hand to the door. "Tim? Help is on the way."

Within minutes, a host of specialists had descended on the property. Experts from Homeland Security and the CDC swarmed the house. Quarantine measures were erected and the rest of the block was evacuated.

The lead doctor walked up to her first. She recognized her from the briefing. "Officer Chen. Dr. Morgan." Dr. Morgan wore a hazmat suit, which Lucy might have found amusing in any situation other than their current one. "Want to tell me what happened?"

She nodded and scrambled to explain in concise terms. "Uh, Mr. Langston picked up the wrong bag. The virus must have been in it because he got a cut, then he started coughing up blood and—what are you doing?" She said as she noticed a member of the CDC place a plastic drop cloth over the door and duct tape it into place "No, we need to get Tim out of there."

"We have to establish a proper quarantine," Morgan said. "Did any blood get on you?"

"No. No, Tim shut the door. I was out here…" She recalled the moment vividly, just as chilling in remembering. Three deep, ragged coughs from Pete. Blood on Tim's jacket. The door slamming. "He locked himself in."

"Smart man." It was the first time something like relief crossed Dr. Morgan's face as she went to the door and knocked. "Officer Bradford, this is Dr. Morgan from the CDC."

"Hey, Doc." His answer was muffled both by the door and the quarantine measures that wrapped around it.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine," he said, and Lucy's shoulders sagged with relief, although they tensed again when he added, "Mr. Langston is struggling." At Dr. Morgan's prompting, he described the situation behind the door. The newest and most alarming symptom Pete was suffering was a nosebleed that would not stop.

She turned to Dr. Morgan and asked, "Where is the vaccine?"

"Still in the air," she replied. "Should land in an hour or so." While they waited, the doctor asked Tim whether he'd be willing to search the bag. Using his body cam, they pulled up the feed on Lucy's city-issued phone, watching as he carefully went through the contents. Through the video, Dr. Morgan was able to identify the growth medium and the low-tech delivery method; a misting fan. While she phoned in their findings to Russo, Tim completed his search.

"No ID or target information," he said to Lucy just as she noticed movement in the mirror.

"Tim!" she exclaimed, and then heard a thud as Pete brought a wooden desk chair down onto his shoulder. The camera turned off as he fell, but she could hear the sound of scuffling through the door, followed by another thud.

She pounded against the door with both fists. "Tim. Tim?"

"I'm okay! I'm okay!" he said between gasps. "Well,thatwas fun."

She grabbed Dr. Morgan just as she ended her call with Agent Russo. "You have to get the vaccine here right now." she demanded.

"There's nothing I can do, Officer Chen. It's in the air."

"Pete attacked him! He's not safe in there."

Dr. Morgan put her hands on Lucy's shoulders.

"Officer Chen, listen to me," she said, repeating her words slowly, but with sympathy. "There is nothing I can do."

She sensed a gravity to her statement; while the doctor did not harp on details concerning severity (Lucy had already heard those at the meeting), she delivered it with all the weight of a death sentence. In some ways, that's exactly what it was. The odds of Tim surviving being locked in a room with a deadly virus were almost not worth calculating. To open the door now could expose everyone in the room, or worse: cause the outbreak they were working so hard to avoid.

There was no hope for Pete Langston, and while Tim wasn't showing symptoms yet, it had been decided that he was an acceptable loss. He could die today, separated from her by a door only three inches thick, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.

The ground pitched beneath Lucy's feet, tilting first to the left, then sharply to the right. Another earthquake? No, no, the room was still. No one else seemed to have trouble staying upright. Not so much as a picture frame was out of place in Mr. Langston's living room as she bouldered to the front door and clung to the frame, forcing herself to inhale deep, steady breaths. No, not an earthquake. This was something else. The sound of her heartbeat in her ears echoed dully, an uneven rhythm that left her feeling more disoriented with every pulse. She ripped off Nolan's watch, casting it aside to see her timer. She heard but did not see the watch land, and did not bother to look for it as she fixed her gaze on the strip on her wrist. Still green, thank God, with zeroes instead of dashes.

Stay green,she prayed silently.Please stay green.

Dr. Morgan and her team were kind enough to give Lucy room to process and asked nothing of her unless they absolutely needed it. They had their own ways to communicate with Agent Russo, and a phone call from Sergeant Grey asked her to focus on the events at Pete's house. He instructed her to turn off her radio; she would receive no more updates concerning the terror threat. Her orders and her focus were now separate and singular. If Tim's condition worsened, she was to notify the Sergeant by phone.

When Dr. Morgan approached her later, she saw sympathy in the her eyes that not even the protective gear could conceal. She was trying to handle her gently. That much was evident by her first question. "Russo mentioned Bradford's important to you. Are you two close?"

Lucy nodded."You could say that. Our timers went off a few months ago."

"If what's happening to Bradford happened to my wife, I'd be beside myself," she offered as an attempt to console her. "We'll get the vaccine as soon as we can."

"Thank you," she whispered, then asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

The doctor considered her question. "Do you want the truth?" Again, Lucy nodded. "We lost Mr. Langston. Tim is probably frightened. I can't let you in the room, but I think you should keep him company."

A chill settled over Lucy. Her voice cracked as she stated, "You don't think he's going to make it."

Dr. Morgan didn't say so directly. Instead, she replied, "The statistics of the disease are not on our side. He's not showing symptoms yet, but if Tim is infected, then you should be with him for as long as you can be."

She needed no more encouragement. Dr. Morgan was right; if their time was limited, Lucy should go to him. Her legs stretched out in front of her as she took a seat in front of the door with her back against the wood. Several minutes passed where she said nothing. She was trying to muster her strength and her courage. The last thing she wanted was to sound scared or upset when she spoke. If her voice even hinted at how her heart threatened to break at any moment, Tim would try to comfort her, and that would only make her feel worse.

Finally, she knocked twice and asked, "Are you there, Bradford?"

A pause, then she heard him say. "I'm here."

"Wanna know what I'm thinking about?" He didn't answer, but she forged on, faking a bright tone. "I'm thinking about which bad movie from your collection you should make me watch after I take my exam. 'True Lies'? 'Executive Decision'?" She heard him chuckle once, but gave no response. "Dr. Morgan says the vaccine will be here in a few minutes."

"You're good at a lot of things, you know? Lying isn't one of them."

She smirked in spite of herself. "I'm good at things? Can I get that in writing?" Her request earned her another muted chuckle from him. "It's going to be okay," she said, imbuing her voice with a hopefulness she did not feel. "I really believe that."

"I'm sure you do," he said, "but if it isn't—

She shushed him, trying to break down the thought before he could finish it. "Don't think like that," she replied just as movement to her left caught her eye. Dr. Morgan was ushering her team out of the room, directing them down the hall in a firm whisper that left no room to argue. At first, Lucy didn't understand why. Then the doctor met her gaze, and again, she received that same look of sympathy, and she knew.

She was giving her -them- space. Space, and privacy for what the doctor feared would be their last conversation.

"You're going to be fine," Lucy insisted, and no longer did she sound hopeful. Now, she sounded desperate. "And if you aren't, I'll never forgive you. Pick a movie."

"Um… 'Executive Decision', I guess." Tim said, then whispered, "Do you want to talk about the other thing?"

"The other thing?"

"What comes after your probationary year. What we would do… who we'd be."

Although he couldn't see it, she shook her head firmly, emphatically. "No. No, I don't want to talk about that until I can see your face."

"Lucy-"

Once more, she interrupted him, asking,"You really think this is it, don't you?"

"I knew my odds when I locked myself in here. It's worth it if it kept you safe."

"Not to me," she replied. Her gaze fell to her hands. She turned them over, finding and focusing on her timer. "Not if it means I lose you."

Lucy remembered what she'd told Cam at the hospital when he asked her whether she loved Tim. Her answer that night had been unspoken, whispered only by and to her own heart.

I don't know. I could someday.

Now, she was certain. Now, she knew, and being awakened to her feelings made it feel like her lungs were burning to breathe.

It had snuck up on her, this revelation that she loved him and was in love with him. Perhaps she was hoping for something more dramatic; something as obvious and undeniable as a timer ringing, but that had not been love. That had only been a moment. That had been a strange overlap of science and fate saying to herHe could be the one for you, if you choose each other.

This, she realized, was nothing like that. This had been a tiny flame that had been fanned by every kindness, every stolen glance, every obstacle they'd overcome; every moment, from the forgettable to the significant, had fueled this fire into the blaze she felt now. She loved Tim, she was in love with him, and not because a timer told her so. In that moment, it became clear that she would have loved him always and in any life. Him, this silly, precious, stubborn, wonderful man that astounded and annoyed her in turn, and practically in equal measure.

What a cruel joke from a universe she once considered kind that she only realized it then, at what could very well be the end.

"You're going to be fine," he said to her, ignorant of her revelation. "You're tough." She scoffed loud enough he heard it through the door and gently scolded her. "Stop it. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. And, if this is it, I don't want you holding on to me forever. You deserve more than that."

She replied, "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

"I'm serious."

"And if it were me in there? If I were the one…" she paused, refusing to let the worddyingleave her lips. He showed no symptoms, and she held onto that hope like a beacon in the dark. "Would you be able to move on? Forget me?"

She heard him sigh. "I don't think any man could forget you once he's loved you, Lucy."

Tears sprang to her eyes instantly. "Tim…"

Before she could say another word, he continued. "It's obvious, isn't it?" he asked softly. "That's where this was all headed. That was the 'after'." She heard him inhale deeply, and as he breathed out, he asked, "It's not just me who thinks that, right?"

"No," she answered. "No, it's not just you." So he felt the same. She'd been so anxious about what he was feeling, what he thought, only to learn they'd been on the same page after all. A tear ran down her cheek, and she swiped at it angrily as she said, "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

"I know, honey, but this is what we've got." He hesitated, then said, "And if it comes down to it, I'm not going out like Pete did."

"What do you mean? Tim? What are you saying?"

"If the time comes," he whispered, "I'm going out on my own terms. And if that happens, I don't want you here. I don't want to do that to you. I can't."

She ran her finger over the face of her timer as his words sank in. She was trying to be present for these moments, knowing they could be limited and therefore precious, but part of her thinking wandered to Nolan. She thought about how he viewed his timer; how he took solace in the fact that Grace was still out there somewhere every time he saw the zeroed-out countdown. She remembered poor, grief-stricken Denise, and how she'd known the second her husband had been killed.

And you don't even get to keep the zeroes to remind yourself that you once were loved.

Lucy had refused to imagine what she'd do in her shoes. Now, she was living it.

"Do you know what happens to the timers when a soulmate dies?" she wondered aloud. He didn't respond, but she continued anyway. She knew he was listening. "The zeroes turn to dashes the moment it happens. You can pinpoint it down to the second if you know what to look for. If you know what's coming. Isn't that the worst fucking thing? I swear, these clocks are cursed." She chuckled drily, joylessly. "Tim… it doesn't matter if I'm right here, or down the street, or across the country. If the worst happens, it's going to feel like the world's dropping out from under me.

"All that to say," Lucy continued, even as her throat thickened with new tears. Her voice shook as she told him, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm in this until there are dashes on your timer or mine. Whether that's now or in fifty years, I'm with you till the dashes."

He didn't argue, didn't fight. He didn't try to insist that she go. All he said was, "I'm glad it was you."

"What do you mean?"

"My soulmate. It could've been anyone, but it was you. I'm glad it was you, Lucy."

"I'm glad it was you, Tim."

They both fell silent then, because what more could be said? Everything she wanted to say -and everything she needed to hear from him- had been whispered between them in those simple words.

It sounded like goodbye, but it felt likeI love you.

It was dark when Dr. Morgan approached the door again. In her hands, she held a small square box.

"Is that the vaccine?" Lucy asked as she stood.

Dr. Morgan nodded. "It is. Let's discuss ground rules."

"Ground rules?"

"More like 'ground rule'. There's only one: you are not to touch Officer Bradford until you've both gone through decontamination." When Lucy didn't reply at first, Dr. Morgan grew stern. "He's at the end of the incubation window, but if there is blood somewhere on his person -his clothes, or in his hair- the virus may still be active and transmissible. You are not touch to him, understand?"

She nodded.

Satisfied with her agreement, the doctor pulled down the drop cloth and knocked on the door. "Officer Bradford. Time to let me in."

The door opened, and there he was.

Seeing him, after hours of fearing she never would again, was almost more than Lucy's heart could take. She stayed rooted a safe distance away, but her eyes were on his every move, greedily drinking in the sight of him. Even as Dr. Morgan put the needle in his arm, he returned Lucy's stare, his gaze locked on her. After she swabbed and bandaged the injection site, she turned to Lucy.

"No touching," she reminded her, and walked away.

Lucy was nothing if not a rule-follower. The moment the doctor's back was turned, she walked up to Tim, standing as close as she could without touching him. It was not enough for her, but it would do for now.

"Hey," she whispered. Although she tried to fight them, her eyes welled up with new tears. On instinct, she reached for him.

"Officer Chen!" Dr. Morgan chastened.

"Fuck," she said, yanking her hand back and using it to cover her laugh "Sorry. 'Ground rules'."

He replied through a smirk. "Those tears for me, Chen?"

She didn't deny it, just wiped beneath her lashes with her knuckle and laughed again. "I think I've earned it just this once, Bradford."

"Just this once."

The reunion was short-lived. They were forced to part soon after. Both were taken through decontamination and afterward, Tim was monitored to judge how his body responded to the vaccine. It was a little after dawn by the time they were permitted to go. Lucy was cleared to return home. Tim would be taken to the CDC in Atlanta for twenty-four observation. She called to relay the news to Sergeant Grey, and he was relieved to hear that both officers were safe.

When she stepped out of the decontamination tent, Lucy was greeted by her friends, their TOs, and several other officers. It seemed like half of Mid-Wilshire's patrol units had come to check on them.

She went to her friends first, and both Jackson and Nolan embraced her with enthusiasm. She received their hugs gratefully before looking at Talia and Angela. They didn't surround her like Nolan and Jackson did, but she could tell from their unguarded expressions that they were glad to see her. "I heard you guys saved the day."

"It was a group effort," Jackson replied with a smirk.

Angela spoke up. "How's Tim?" The concern was plain on her face.

"It looks like he's clear," Lucy replied. "They'll take him to the CDC for observation, just to be safe."

No sooner had she finished speaking than he emerged from the decontamination tent. Beside him walked two CDC workers, still donning hazmat suits as they directed him towards their vehicle.

At the sight of him, Angela chuckled. Loud enough for Tim to hear, she said to the group, "How much do you wanna bet he tells them 'Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair'."

Talia chimed in, performing a caricature of his voice as she replied to the question. "'I'm walking outta here on my own two feet'."

"Don't you guys have paperwork to finish?" he asked as he passed them, but despite his efforts to look displeased, she noticed a slight but unmistakable smile on his lips at their ribbing.

"See?" she said, feeling relieved as she watched him go. "Perfectly fine."

The words had just left her mouth when Tim slowed to a stop. He wavered on his feet for two or three long seconds before every muscle in his body went slack. He fell, and time froze, and still he was falling.

And the world dropped out from under her as Lucy cried his name.

Chapter 25: As Long As We Have This

Notes:

"You're amazing and you have me
Doesn't matter whatever comes to be
Even if we somehow lose our way
We'll be okay."
- "We'll Be Okay", Imaginary Future

Chapter Text

He seemed to fall forever.

Lucy heard herself shout for him, but did not remember her mouth forming the word as the sound tore from her throat, closer to a shriek than a call. By the time he hit the ground -eyes rolling into the back of his head, mouth slack, head lolling useless against his shoulders as he tumbled backwards- Lucy had broken into a run. There was only the span of a few feet to cover from where she stood to reach his side, but her legs felt weighted when she tried to move, her feet unsteady and uncooperative as she rushed towards him.

Jackson and Nolan were on her heels within a moment, with the former catching her by her elbow just as one of the doctors held out their hands and warned her to stay back. She fought against the grip of her friends, but it was useless; in her worrying, her strength had all but evaporated, and she was easily overpowered. A gurney was hastily rolled onto the scene. The CDC doctors made quick work of Tim, picking him up with ease and placing him onto the gurney. Only then was Lucy permitted to go to him.

His skin was cold and damp as she grabbed his hand and held it tightly. "I'm here, Tim. I'm here," she whispered frantically, then interlaced her fingers with his before laying their joined hands over his chest.

It wasn't the virus, Dr. Morgan assured her when she asked; at least they hadthatmuch as consolation. Instead, it appeared Tim was suffering a reaction to the vaccine, and a very severe one at that. Lucy's hopes briefly reignited when she felt Tim's grip flex around her fingers, but the glimmer was dashed when he began to shake uncontrollably. A seizure, Lucy realized with a gulp that made her dry throat ache. Every muscle in his body tightened at once as he trembled violently. She pulled free of his hand and put one palm over his chest; the other rested on his thigh. There was the frantic delivery of orders from Dr. Morgan to her teammates, calling for medicine, for assistance. Their voices quickly fell to the background of her attention. The sound of the ambulance, the sirens, and the chaos all grew dim as she kept her gaze trained on Tim, willing him awake with desperate, silent prayers even through her futile attempt to hold him still. His heart raced beneath her palm, galloping against her hand as she swallowed down new sobs.

The others -Jackson, Nolan, Lopez, and Bishop- had led the way in patrol vehicles. Thanks to their escort the road cleared easier, and they arrived at Shaw Memorial in record time. No sooner had the ambulance pulled up to the ER entrance than the unmistakable sound of gunfire rang out. The rounds seemed to have been shot haphazardly, as if the shooter were unsure of their target. As if their goal was to terrorize just as much as to kill. The bullets seemed to come from every direction, and some pierced the metal sides of the ambulance. Lucy threw herself over Tim's body when she heard the first succession of telltale pops. His convulsions had stopped, but he remained still and unconscious, and now there was danger outside the ambulance that she had to protect him from.

It was agony to leave him, but Lucy had a duty, and she knew what he would have expected her to do if he were awake. There wasn't a question in her mind what he would want… but she allowed herself a second to linger, just long enough to press a kiss to the back of his hand.

"Please wake up," she pleaded softly, then crawled out the drivers side door to join the fight.

It could not have been more than a minute or two, but like when Tim had fallen, time telescoped. It warped into moments that felt hours-long until a shot from Nolan finally connected with the shooter, but that was the only one he managed before his clip was empty. It was then that the woman decided to charge, rushing toward Nolan with her gun high.

Suddenly, the doors to the ambulance burst open. As Lucy had been using the vehicle as cover, the swinging door nearly decked her before the hinge bounced it back onto its course. One more shot, and the woman was down. Just like that the gunfire was over, leaving behind only a gruesome scene and bullet holes in nearly every surface imaginable. Nurses and doctors from inside the hospital mobilized once they were certain the shooting had ended. Standing on the rear fender of the ambulance was Tim. He was still pale, still shaky, but also triumphant. As she rounded the corner, Lucy saw a hint of relief on his face. He'd woken up just in time to fire the fatal round and save, if not all of their asses, at the very least Nolan's.

It was hard not to embrace him right there, to drag him down to solid ground and make complete fools of them both. Lucy was tempted to, but she fought the urge. It would've been improper on the job, for one thing, and she would've hated to give fodder to workplace gossip even if they'd certainly earned a hug or two at least by this point. She refrained (with, admittedly, a good deal of effort) and only approached him to help him down. This assistance she offered discreetly, allowing him to rest one hand on her shoulder as he hopped from the back of the open ambulance.

"I think I changed my mind about the bad movie you owe me," she teased once she was sure he was steady on his feet.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. We're gonna go with 'Die Hard', because this little stunt here?" She gestured with one finger to the wreckage around them, "Very John McClane of you."

Their reunion in front of the ER was cut short as the team from the CDC rushed Tim inside. He disappeared through the doors surrounded by doctors still donning hazmat suits. Although she'd been allowed to accompany him on the ambulance, no one was permitted any further than the lobby for now; the shooting had forced the hospital into lockdown, and policy dictated that no one except emergency contacts or next of kin were permitted to visit within the first six hours of a lockdown scenario. Lucy was not his next of kin; that was still Isabel, at least on paper. Angela, who was on the list as Tim's emergency contact, offered to raise a fuss about it. By that point Lucy was too tired to argue with anyone, least of all a front desk worker who had no context for their connection, nor any clue what they'd lived through since yesterday.

"I'll just go home for now," she said to Lopez, hoping to talk her down from protesting too much. "It's not like he isn't in good hands. I mean, CDC doctors are some of the best, right?" She tried to sound unfazed because, in all honesty, being turned away had wounded her pride just a little.

So rather than follow him into the ER, Lucy rode with Jackson and Angela back to the station. She changed quickly and retrieved her belongings, then went straight home. By then it was ten in the morning and she'd been up for over twenty-four hours straight. She was spent but, despite her fatigue, could not rest. The adrenaline had not yet worn off, she guessed, and it was possible she would not have peace enough to sleep until she knew for sure how Tim was doing. She wondered whether he was still at the hospital, or if they'd headed to Atlanta yet. A call could wake him up if he was sleeping, and she'd hate to disturb his rest. Deciding her safest bet was a text that he could answer at his leisure, she typed out a quick message.

I tried to come see you but they wouldn't let me in.

Perhaps that was a strange thing to lead with, she thought, but it was important to her that she explained why she'd gone no farther than the hospital lobby. She wasn't sure whether he was expecting her to come by, but she wanted him to know she'd made an attempt.

It's okay. Lopez dropped off some of my things and let me know what happened.

How long will you be gone?she asked.

Don't know.

Let me know when you get to Atlanta, okay?

This final message was read, but he didn't answer. At first she didn't think anything of it, and after putting her phone aside she managed to fall quickly into deep, dreamless sleep. When she awoke, there was still no response.

Huh. Weird.she thought, but tried to put it out of her mind. She rose and got dressed to go to the station. It was evening now, and while she was technically off work, she needed to file a report on the events at Pete Langston's house. She'd rather do that sooner, while it was still fresh. Although it was exhausting to recall the details, she completed the report to the best of her ability. There was a tricky balance to strike here as she tried to portray the events in as accurate terms as possible while still holding back the specifics that were a little more personal to them. Once the report was completed, she read over her work for errors. After finding it satisfactory, she filed the report and left for home.

Tim still had not responded.

It's been a little while. Did you make it to Atlanta all right?

(Read 10:45am)

I took the exam today. I think I did okay. The chief asked about you. I told him the vaccine made you grow horns.

I'm kidding. I told him you're recovering nicely. You are, aren't you?

You and I both know you could probably pull off horns.

(Read 5:11pm)

Talia quit today. Or transferred. I don't know. The specifics are weird. She joined ATF. At least she waited until Nolan took the exam. Hope you're okay. Any word yet on how long they're keeping you?

(Read 8:32pm)

I've worked the front desk twice since you've been gone. It was either that or ride with Smitty. I think Sarge wants to make sure I don't pick up any bad habits.

(Read 9:02 am)

How's it going over there? What's Atlanta like? I've never been. Are they keeping you pretty locked down or do you get to go out and explore?

(Read 4:08 pm)

Nolan bought a new house. I'm going over to see it in a few days. He says it's a "real fixer-upper", whatever that means. As opposed to a fake fixer-upper? I'm kidding. Bad joke.

I bought him a new watch because I took off his old one at Pete's house and forgot to pick it up before we left.

I don't hide my timer anymore.

(Read 9:41 pm)

Jackson and his boyfriend broke up, so that's been a thing I'm dealing with right now. I think their work schedules made it tough. Supposedly it was mutual, but Jackson came over last night, after it happened. He was pretty upset so we ate ice cream and watched The Princess Bride. Made me think of the night you had my car fixed. I wonder how Dennis is doing?

I wonder how YOU are doing.

(Read 10:14 am)

Did I ever tell you where I put the picture you gave me? It's on my nightstand. That big dumb grin on your face is my favorite out of the five-ish times I've seen you smile.

(Read 7:43 pm)

Six days passed with no reply. He did not respond to her message about arriving in Atlanta, nor to anything Lucy sent over the next few days. Even her phone calls went unreturned. By the seventh day, she was left with no other recourse but to take the hint and leave him be, as difficult as that was for her. She was accustomed to speaking to him daily. To no longer have that outlet, even temporarily, was an adjustment for her not easily made.

It wasn't just that she loved him (and acknowledging that was still as thrilling and daunting as it had been the first time she realized it). She enjoyed his company, and she valued his friendship. It had been her hope to process their conversation at Pete's house as a unit, not wanting to wait until he returned to determine what having the wordloveout there between them would mean. Since he stopped responding, she was left no choice but to reckon with it alone.

It was not easy.

"How's Tim doing?" Nolan asked Lucy a week after she'd sent her last message. She and Jackson had been invited over for a little hang and home improvement, plied by promises of free food and beer if they helped him paint the entryway.

Upon hearing her soulmate's name, she grimaced.

"That well?" Jackson asked with a laugh.

She dipped her roller into the pan of primer before answering primly, "I don't know."

Nolan glanced at Jackson first, then asked Lucy cautiously, "You really don't know how he's doing?"

She rolled a stripe of primer onto the wall before answering. A little splattered on her, landing on her old gray t-shirt and faded black sweatpants. She ignored it, focusing her attention on the job in front of her as she repeated, "I don't know how he's doing because he stopped replying to my texts." Then, she added flatly, "I guess we'll have a lot to talk about when he gets back."

There was a stretch of silence where no one spoke before Jackson cleared his throat.

"So," he began nervously, "don't be mad… but Lopez took a half day today."

She didn't follow. "Okay… "

"She took a half day because she picked Tim up from the airport this afternoon."

Lucy dropped the brush back into the pan with a clatter before turning to face him. "Are you serious?"

"Afraid so."

"S-so he's home," she stammered in disbelief, "and he didn't tell me?"

He winced as he nodded. "I'm sorry, Luce."

Her eyes traveled to Nolan, who was paying too much attention to his beer bottle to be innocent. "Did you know, too?"

He looked up hesitantly, still thumbing at the beer label as he answered, "I may have heard a rumor."

"Oh. Great. So I'm the last to know." Her laugh was sardonic, angry, and she rubbed her hands together anxiously as she tried to calm herself down. "It's fine. It's… it's fine."

"Do you want to sit down?"

She reached for the roller again. "No," she replied, deciding to let the topic drop for now.

"Don't take it out on Lopez when you see her, okay?" Jackson begged as she continued rolling primer onto the wall. "I don't think she knows he ghosted you."

"I'm not," she replied, and that was the truth. She didn't blame Angela, and part of her still held onto the belief that Tim hadn't meant to hurt her feelings; that failing to reply to her texts or calls had been the result of some extenuating circumstance she did not yet know about. Asking Lopez to pick him up could have just as easily been that he knew she'd have an easier time getting away from work than Lucy would. A lack of response to her messages could have been problems with his cell phone signal.

It couldn't have been that he was heartless, she tried to assure herself as she drove home from Nolan's a few hours later. He wouldn't have done it on purpose. Would he?

She wanted to say no, but she didn't know for sure.

Tim was already in the roll call room when Lucy arrived the next morning. He was sitting alone at a table towards the back. His eyes were forward, staring at the black tabletop, looking up only as Lucy approached. She searched his eyes for a flicker of feeling, for a sign that he was happy to see her, and was disheartened that none appeared.

"Hey stranger," she said, and although she meant it as a joke, it came out a little more pointed than she intended. "I see you pulled through just fine."

He replied, "Looks that way, Boot," but said no more.

She knew her expression betrayed her confusion. Here it had been days since she'd seen or heard from him, and she was the only one of the two of them excited to see the other. What had changed in two weeks, she wondered as she turned away to take her seat at the front. What had happened?

To start the meeting, Sergeant Grey posted the scores from their exams. Three scores were written on the chalkboard; 81, 91, and 97, and the probationary officers were instructed to submit their guesses on who got which score. Given the grousing from the third row, Lucy could tell Tim expected her to have the lowest score, which made her feel even worse, bringing her frustrations ever more to the foreground.

At least she'd get to wear short sleeves. Not that that was consolation, but it was something. She avoided him as she got their gear, stewing privately in her own mind over the turn his behavior had taken. Once more she found herself on the outskirts of his favor, but unlike the previous times, now she had no clue why. They'd been in a good place before Pete's house, even if they'd bickered that morning, and during his quarantine had reached the point of confessing true, deep feelings. If she laid out the facts and drew a hasty conclusion, her best guess was that he'd had second thoughts about… well, aboutthem. Why else would he have ignored her so deliberately over the past two weeks? What other reason could motivate him to take such great pains to put distance between them? As she changed into her short sleeves, she decided that that must be it. He'd used the time in Atlanta to think about what he wanted. No matter what he'd felt before, and no matter what he'd said at the Langston house, if her assumptions were correct, he must have changed his mind.

She wished it didn't sting so badly, but it did, and as she yanked off her uniform Lucy felt tears prick her eyes. She bit them back, swallowing them down as she ignored the gnawing sensation that the fear of rejection left behind.

He was talking to Lopez when she found him in the bullpen, but his eyes narrowed the moment she came into view. As soon as she was close enough, he ordered her back to the locker room, reminding her in terms that left no room for argument that he himself was in charge of her training. His boots didn't get out of short sleeves until the last day of probation, he said. The order was given harshly; he practically barked it at her, and she slunk back to the locker room to put on her long sleeves.

He did not speak to her again as they got on the road, the silence broken only as he radioed dispatch. "Control, show us 10-6"

She glanced at him uncertainly as he pulled into the lot of a public park. "What are we doing?"

"You'll see. Get out."

Lucy did as he commanded, although she paused just a moment too long for his liking. This earned her a sharp admonishment, and he told her "Stop pouting," as she stepped out of the shop.

"I'm not pouting," she replied before shutting her door behind her and followed him down the slope.

What occurred next was a special "Tim test". He'd had a friend from the bomb squad make a mock IED and hide it somewhere in the park. Her job was to find it in ten minutes. She did, but her sense of accomplishment was undermined when she spoke into her radio. The rig immediately detonated in her face, sending up a cloud of white dust that went everywhere, with most of it landing on her.

"Annnnnd you're dead," Tim said as he walked up to her, "because radio frequency can trigger a bomb. You gonna forget that lesson, Boot?"

Lucy coughed once, then bit out, "No."

"Good. Go get cleaned up."

Getting the powder off her clothes was fairly easy. Her hair and face were trickier to clean, and she ended up having to wash her face with hand soap in the park restroom before unrolling her bun to shake out the dust. As soon as she was finished, Tim radioed dispatch that they were active again, and they got back on the road.

Even though a half-dozen questions burned Lucy's tongue, they did not speak between calls. She was anxious to ask what had changed. She wanted to know why he was treating her differently. It wasn't that he was treating her as if the things they'd said at Pete's house had remained unspoken. Her heart sank in her chest as she realized he was behaving just as he had at the very beginning, but given his demeanor -cranky, churlish- she decided it was best to bide her time. The moment their shift ended for the day, she would ask.

Having hours to emotionally fortify herself for the confrontation did not dull her nerves in the slightest. After she unpacked their gear, Lucy cornered him by the locker rooms. "What are you doing," she asked, and although she'd tried to sound firm, her voice wavered slightly.

He didn't look at her as he answered, "Clocking out and heading home."

"No, I mean why are you treating me like it's day one all over again?"

"It is day one," Tim stated. "It's day one of stage two of your training."

"I'm not just talking about my training, and you know it," she retorted dourly. "Why are you doing this? Have I…" she hesitated, mulling over how best to sum up her fears, "have I lost all the respect I've earned from you?"

"You lost that when you lied on a report."

Her eyebrows shot up at this accusation. "When I didwhatnow?"

"At the quarantine house," he said. "When I thought I was infected, I told you I'd rather take my life than die from the virus, and you failed to report it."

"Andthatwas your main takeaway from that day?"

He glossed over her question, ignoring it entirely to reply, "Suicidal ideations from a law enforcement officer are extremely serious and should have been reported."

"You weren't even actually suicidal!"

"You should have detailed everything, regardless of the consequences, and instead you opted to protect me. That's unacceptable, and you know it!"

"Fine," she conceded, shaking her head as she shifted her weight onto her back foot. All of her nerves and anxiety had faded, overpowered by the anger she felt now. "Maybe I was protecting you. Maybe I should have reported it 'regardless of the consequences', like I should have every single time I watched you cover for Isabel." She took another step back, and with more space between them felt suddenly emboldened to look him over with a disapproving glare. "If you want to rake me over the coals for the next six months, you go ahead. But don't act like it's because you've got somecode."

She stormed away, and for a moment she half-expected him to follow. He didn't. Of course he didn't; that wasn't Tim's style, for one thing, and she figured that was just as well. If he'd trailed after her, she might have continued arguing… or done something really stupid, like tell him how much she had missed him.

Tim softened overnight.

Somewhat.

He gave no indication concerning this change, no warning; no "why". Not with words, at least. Instead, he let his actions speak on his behalf. He helped her pack their gear that morning, carrying the heaviest parts of the load to the truck without her having to ask. He reacted with thinly-veiled pride when Lucy pursued a crook in a stolen cop uniform. He nodded to her after they stopped a heist, grateful that her quick thinking and effective intervention on the highway had kept him from harm.

There might have been a time where that was close enough to an olive branch for Lucy, but that was not the case now.

Since this was the second shift in a row that had passed in almost total silence, she assumed he'd leave her be another day or so. While yesterday she'd been desperate to have the confrontation behind them, she thought differently today. She knew with certainty that she was the wronged party, and with that in mind, left the onus for reconciliation squarely on his shoulders.

Lucy wasn't expecting him to do something unplanned. This was Tim after all, and while he'd been generous in doing favors for her in the past, he didn't strike her as the type for unplanned gestures delivered on a whim. Perhaps that was why it shocked her so much when he suddenly showed up on her doorstep. She certainly didn't think he'd wait patiently for her to answer, regret growing in his eyes as she spied on him through the peephole of her front door, and she never guessed he'd arrive with flowers in one hand and a copy of "Die Hard" in the other.

"I'm sorry, Lucy," he said, the apology unprompted and immediate when she opened the door. "Can we talk?"

She said nothing at first, just let him in without a word. After she closed the door behind him, he handed her the blooms. It was a bouquet of pink peonies wrapped in brown butcher paper, tied together with twine.

"How did you know I like peonies?" she wondered as she ran one finger over the delicate petals of the largest flower.

"I have my ways." The response was pretty typical of him, but missing his usual tone. He was clearly uneasy, but then again, so was she.

"I suppose that's code for 'I asked Jackson'," she said, then carried the flowers to the kitchen. He followed a few steps behind her, watching quietly as she fished a vase out from beneath the sink.

"Actually, I asked Nolan," Tim corrected. "He knows way too much about you."

"Huh. So you'll talk to my friends, but not to me?" she asked and frowned. "That sounds about par for the course." As she filled the vase with water from the tap, Lucy glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Do you really think I would've let you out of my sight for a second?"

"What?"

"If you were really suicidal. Do you think I would've let you get away with ignoring my messages for that long if I thought you were going to hurt yourself? That I wouldn't have, I don't know," she snorted sardonically, "snuck myself into your luggage and gone to Atlanta with you? But that's not the whole story, is it? That's not why you acted like this. Something else is."

"Lucy, I don't have an excuse for what I did."

She was glad for the flowers now as she trimmed the stems deliberately with kitchen shears. It gave her something to do, something to keep her hands busy. Something that let her avoid his eyes, allowing her more access to her composure than she'd have if she'd had to hold his gaze without it. "I'm not asking for an excuse, Tim," she whispered, "but I'm owed an explanation."

"I don't think you'll like what I have to tell you."

"I don't care if I like it. I deserve to know." Her heart thudded in her chest as she posed the question that had haunted her for two weeks now. "Did you mean what you said?"

"What I said?"

She set the blooms into water, still intent on skirting his stare. "At Pete's house." The words she'd committed to memory, playing on repeat every night and morning and every minute in between, a constant thrum running in the background of her mind. Being removed from the threat of danger had not caused his words to lose their weight; they still hit her like a full-force blow with each recollection, and they felt equally heavy as she repeated them to him. "'I don't think any man could forget you once he's loved you, Lucy'. 'I'm glad it was you'. Did you mean it, or have you changed your mind?" At first he didn't reply, so she wondered aloud, "Is that why you've been pushing me away?"

He exhaled a heavy sigh. "Lucy, will you look at me?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Please?" When she still resisted, he set the DVD on the kitchen counter before closing the few feet of distance between them. With a gentle touch, he turned her face towards him. His fingers were warm as they glanced over her cheek, and his thumb stroked a soft line across her skin. "I'm never going to change my mind about you. I'm in this 'til the dashes, too."

Hearing her words on his lips made her pulse jump. "Really?"

"Really. And that terrified me," he confessed. "I've thought everything I wanted was in the palm of my hand before. That whole cliche with the house, the fence, two-point-five kids… all of it. After Isabel, I didn't think I'd ever want those things again, but then you…" he smiled despite himself, "you got to me." His expression only lasted a moment longer before it fell as he said, "I psyched myself out when I was in Atlanta. Can't just let myself be happy, I guess. I could only see what might go wrong, and I had no idea how to respond to your texts without giving away how much I was struggling." She watched as tears built inside his eyes, tiny drops forming underneath his irises. He tried to blink them away. "Anyway, that's what happened, but I know that's no excuse. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, Tim…" she whispered, covering his hand with hers and pulling it away from her cheek. She squeezed his fingers gently before letting them go. "Why didn't you tell me? Don't you trust me by now?"

"It's not that I don't trust you, Lucy," he replied quietly, "I don't trustme. How can I look at you and not see all my dead dreams living? How can I look at you and not want everything? It scares the shit out of me, because what if I make a mess of this? You're not just my soulmate. You're my friend, and my Boot, and if I fuck it up-"

Her hands cupping both sides of his face was what shushed him, stopping him from spiraling further into imagining worst case scenarios. His stunned silence persisted as Lucy gently brought him lower, pulling until his forehead rested against hers. Touching him after weeks of waiting to was a bliss like nothing else on earth. She had thirsted to be close to him in the time apart, but had not anticipated how deeply she would feel relief once she had. His eyes slipped closed, his breath slowing; hers matched the rhythms of his as they stood quietly for time uncounted.

"Tim," she began tenderly, however many minutes later, "you know I trust you, right?"

"Yes."

"And you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then stop worrying about messing it up," she whispered. "We're a team. I've got you, and you've got me, and as long as we havethis, we can handle the rest." She slid her hands to his shoulders, and as she opened her eyes, Lucy said through a smirk, "Now, what's this about two-point-five kids?"

"Oh for fuck's sake…"

"I'm just saying, kids already? Shouldn't you at least take me on an actual date first?"

He rolled his eyes as he stood up straighter, but despite his play at exasperation could not conceal his grin. "I knew as soon as I said it that you would focus on that."

"Hey, you're the one who brought up children." She laughed, and he chuckled too. "It feels like we're doing things backwards."

"Does that bother you?"

"No. No, I wouldn't change a thing." Then, she asked, "But what happens now? I mean, we feel how we feel, but the job, and… everything else."Complicatedhad been the word for them since the very start, Lucy thought fondly.

"I know," Tim said as he stepped back. "I think for now it's gotta be business as usual. I'm still your TO. No matter how we feel, this," he motioned between them, "can't be more than it is right now. Not because I don't want to, but I'd like to get you through training first. And," he hesitated before admitting sheepishly, "I'm not ready. If the last two weeks have shown me anything, it's that I have a lot of shit to work through." He looked away. "I don't want to keep being like this. I don't want to hurt you. I want to be good to you, but I need more time so I can learn how to do that. Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. That's okay."

Tim eyed her knowingly. "You're disappointed."

"No, no. I understand." When he didn't look convinced, she added, "All right, I'll admit that after a near miss like the one we just had, the idea of waiting even longer is a little bit of a bummer, but it's okay. You're worth waiting for, Tim… and let's be honest, switching TOs at this point would be kind of a hassle. Who'd even take me? Smitty?" She faked a shudder.

"You could always go back to Wrigley," he teased.

"Oh my God, how dare you? How dare you remind me of such a dark time?" she groaned, but then quickly smiled. "And don't think I'm gonna let you get away with only calling me Lucy after hours. I heard you call me 'honey'."

"You've been holding on to that for a while, haven't you?"

"Please. I held onto all of it."

"Is 'I thought I was going to die' an adequate defense?"

"Hey, I'm not mad about it. Who knew Tim Bradford was a pet name guy?" She giggled, then picked up the DVD. "You're two weeks overdue on your promise of pizza and a movie. Are you ordering or am I?"

As if on cue, someone knocked on her door. Tim's lips lifted in a crooked smile. "I already did."

"Pretty confident I'd forgive you, weren't you?"

"I wouldn't say I was confident,honey."He exaggerated the endearment as he turned to answer the door, looking back at her once his hand was on the knob. "I just really hoped you would."

Chapter 26: Two Birthdays in July

Notes:

"This role so new
I'll muddle through
With you to guide me."
- "I'm Glad There Is You", Ella Fitzgerald

Chapter Text

Tim started therapy a week after coming home. Lucy tried not to look too pleased about it, but, well… she was a former psych major, and mental health was important to her; the mental health of the man she loved, especially so. It meant the world to her that he wanted to get the help that he needed and deserved, that he recognized unhealthy patterns on his own and wanted to fix the situation. As excited as she was for him to seek help for his own sake, in a way his decision told her that he took their future together seriously, and that "I want to be good to you" wasn't said flippantly and without foundation, without action to support it. She knew very little about the therapist he'd chosen. Picking one was a pretty personal task, and she didn't want to insert herself where her help had not been requested. All she knew was that his services were geared toward military veterans and emergency service personnel. That would likely be of great benefit to someone like Tim, and at his suggestion he would attend weekly appointments.

He invited Lucy over the evening after his third therapy session. Now that her six month exam was behind her, he wondered if she was interested in helping him study.

"We could make a night of it. I'll make dinner," he offered, then added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I'll even use the stove this time."

"Thestove? Tim, you spoil me," she accepted with a laugh. "Let me run to Office Max and I'll be right there."

She arrived at his house within the hour, armed with flashcards, highlighters, color-coded tabs, a blue three-ring binder, and a stack of college-ruled paper. He took one look at her supplies and joked, "It looks like you're opening an aftermarket school store. I probably won't need half of that stuff."

"I like to be prepared."

"I'll say. If the world ends and office supplies become currency, we'll be millionaires," he teased, then tossed her the most recent book added to his pile by the Chief of police.

She regarded the book with a critical glare. "'Split Second Leadership: Leading Men in the Line of Duty'. Men?"

"Don't look at me. I didn't choose it. Mind reading it to me while I cook, please?" When she made a face, he joked, "If I have to suffer, so do you."

"How sweet of you to share," Lucy replied as she followed him to the kitchen. On the way there, she paused to look down the hallway. Something was different; off, from the last time she was there, but she couldn't place it.

"I took it down," Tim said, having noticed that she had not followed him.

"Oh," she breathed, realizing then what was missing. The picture from his wedding day had been removed, leaving behind only a blank white wall and two holes where the picture hooks had been. "Sorry."

"Why?"

"I… don't know," she admitted. "I guess I'm worried I just made it awkward."

"You didn't, but if the blank space bothers you, I have that picture from New Years in my car."

Lucy laughed imagining the picture on his visor taking up so little space on his wall. "This spot is a bit big for a three-by-five, isn't it?"

"I should put it up anyway," he said with a crooked smile. "You wore the hell out of that white dress, you know."

Before she could obsess over the thinly-concealed want in his comment, Lucy directed them both to the kitchen. "Come on. You need to study and you promised me dinner." She led the way this time, and hopped up onto the countertop, crossing one leg over the other as she opened the book and began to read. "'Chapter one. True leadership generates respect, not fear. It elevates people rather than diminishing them'. Okay, I rescind my criticism. I might love this book."

"You would."

Dinner was going to be roasted chicken and sautéed vegetables. While he set to preparing, she read, maneuvering her legs this way and that as he needed to pass, and occasionally stopping to quiz him on content. "Are you sure you don't want me to help?" she asked, pausing at the end of the first chapter.

"Youarehelping."

"I meant with dinner."

"No, I got this. Keep reading."

"You're just going to have to re-read this to memorize it."

He shook his head as he put the tray of chicken into the pre-heated oven. "No, I memorize best when I hear things."

Her brow furrowed as she thought of her study supplies that lay untouched in the living room. "Really? Hm."

He eyed her warily. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, brushing it off for now. "Let's keep going. 'Chapter two'…"

They got through four chapters before the night was over. Three she read while dinner cooked, and one while he washed the dishes.

"You really memorize through hearing?" she asked, having set the book aside for a moment to help him dry the dishes.

"Yes," he confirmed, then looked at her warily. "Why? Is that bad?"

"No," Lucy answered, but said no more. It wasn't bad, per se, but it was something for her to keep in mind if she was going to continue helping him study. From what she remembered of her psychology courses -and from what she'd seen while working with him- Tim tended to view things from an angle that almost went against instinct. She'd thought it was just a natural talent; possibly a skillset cultivated in the Army that had translated well to the LAPD. Now she wondered if it was something else.

By chapter four her voice was tired, and she was thrilled when he took the book away and handed her a glass of wine to end the evening, then whispered "Thank you" in her ear as he hugged her in gratitude. They closed the night by watching a few episodes of The Office and made plans to review the material during their next shift, in between calls.

The following day saw a new member added to their ranks. Sergeant Grey began the roll call by introducing the night general detective, a man named Nick Armstrong who had recently transferred to Mid-Wilshire and who, at a glance, seemed friendlier than any detective she'd yet encountered. He even brought coffee and donuts to break the ice with the patrol officers. The meeting ended on a down note, with Jackson being congratulated on a good pinch the night before, having arrested his own landlord for dealing drugs. Unfortunately, he was not handed a commendation for his efforts, but a change of address form. Thanks to the arrest, his apartment building was now considered of ill-repute and it was not permissible for an officer to live there. As soon as the meeting ended, Lucy was quick to offer Jackson her apartment's spare room.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and despite the hesitation in his words, his eyes looked desperate.

She nodded. "Absolutely."

He looked heavenward and exhaled in obvious relief. "Thank you."

They made plans for him to begin moving in that evening. "Let me know if you need help getting things brought over," she called after him as he walked away. "I know a guy with a truck."

"Volunteering Tim to help your friend move?" Angela said from behind Lucy. She turned to see she was grinning. "How very girlfriend-y of you."

Lucy didn't deny it; if she did, there was a good chance Lopez would tease her for protesting. Instead, she said, "Just doing what I can to help."

"I know. Did I hear you offer him your extra room?" When Lucy nodded, she said, "Thank you for working that out for him. Smitty had that look in his eye, so you probably just saved me an assload of trouble."

She snickered; at Angela's comment, yes, but also at the mental image of Jackson bunking with Smitty of all people. She almost regretted her offer now, if only because it deprived her of the built-in entertainment value of their odd-couple pairing. "Well, I'm glad I could be of some service. Besides, it should be fun, right?"

Angela agreed, and they went their separate ways after that with Lucy going to set up the shop and Angela off to locate Jackson. A few minutes later, she and Tim left the station. Her phone chimed with a text after they'd been out for twenty minutes. She peeked at her messages and immediately gasped. The text was from Nolan, containing a single sentence that hit her like a brick.

I just saw Grace.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked when he heard her sharp intake of breath.

"It's Nolan. He just saw his soulmate for the first time in twenty years."

"Is he okay?"

"I think so. Maybe?" A second text came in, which Lucy glanced over before saying, "He said she's a doctor at Shaw Memorial. Just started working in the ER. He ran into her while answering a call." A third text popped up. "He's stunned. Of course he's stunned. He didn't think he'd ever see her again." She lowered her phone, feeling a little shocked herself as she told Tim, "He told me they were really in love when they were younger. Did you know that?"

"This may come as a surprise to you, but I know very little about your friend's love life."

"Funny," she chortled, but quickly grew serious. She'd never forget how much she depended on Nolan's kindness when her timer first went off. It felt like this was her opportunity to reciprocate, but she didn't know how. What could she say that would offer him any comfort? What sense was there to make of such an unlikely reunion? "I wonder what's going to happen now?" she whispered, adding, "Probably nothing, right? He's with Jessica."

Tim made a sound like disagreement; like he wasn't so sure this was an event so easily dismissed. "I don't know about that. You just said they were in love once, right?"

"Yeah, a long time ago. He's lived a whole life since then. He's in a relationship now."

He paused, drumming his hands on the steering wheel briefly before answering. "I don't know, Chen. Proximity can be a pretty intoxicating thing when it comes to soulmates."

"I don't suppose you're speaking from experience?"

"Oh, I'm absolutely speaking from experience," he agreed, flashing her a smile, "and now that he knows she's close by-"

"-But he really likes Jessica," she said again.

"How much do you wanna bet they'll call it quits in a month? Two, tops?"

"I am not going to bet on my friend's relationship."

"Come on." He nudged her arm. "We could make it interesting. If I'm right and they break up, you have to wear the duty hat for two weeks. If you win, well," he shot her a playful look, "you wanted to get into short sleeves, didn't you?"

She turned away from him and looked out the window. "I'm not going to bet on my friend's relationship," she repeated dully.

"I was kidding anyways, but you're tempted, aren't you?"

"Sotempted."

Tim laughed. "I would let you have them but rules are rules, Chen."

"But it'syourrule! Can't you just change it?"

"And get accused of going easy on you? Not likely."

"Please, Tim?" she begged. "Please? Wool sleeves in summer? I'm so hot, like, all the time."

"And don't I know it," he mumbled under his breath, then grinned when it became apparent that Lucy heard him.

She shook her head slowly as she fought a smile. "You're impossible," she retorted, but her attempt at disappointment was undermined when her facade cracked, and a flattered giggle escaped from her lips.

She had her theories about Tim's learning style, but without the proper training and diagnostic tools, the best Lucy could do was support him based off an educated guess. That meant that, the night Jackson moved in, she saw him to his room and politely requested as much silence as he could give her for the next few nights at least.

"I'm recording an audiobook," she explained.

"For what? You got a little side hustle?" he asked.

"No, it's for Tim."

Of course that only made him ask more questions, which she either skirted or ignored until he agreed to be quiet. "I won't interrupt you recording audiobooks for your boyfriend." It was the second time that day someone had referred to her and Tim as boyfriend and girlfriend.

It was also the second time that day that Lucy failed to correct them.

Lucky for her, Tim had accidentally left the book behind in the shop that evening. She had grabbed it as she unloaded their gear, figuring she'd hold onto it until the next day. Not having to ask him to borrow it meant she wouldn't tip him off; she could make the audiobook a surprise. Her voice was exhausted and a little gravelly by the time she finished, but two days later, she presented Tim with the completed audiobook. It was just for the one so far. Lucy had it in mind to do more as he needed them, but for now, she only read through the entirety of "Split Second Leadership", recorded it to a voice memo, then uploaded the whole thing to a cheap MP3 player she'd picked up at Best Buy.

He was in the gym when she found him and turned toward her when he heard her voice. A smile broke out on his face as he spotted her and stopped the bag with his palm. "You heading out?"

"Yeah, in a minute." She held out the MP3 player and a set of white earbuds. "This is for you."

"What's this?"

"It is 'Split Second Leadership', the audiobook."

"There's no audiobook." He turned the player over in his hands, looking up as realization dawned. "Lucy?"

"So, I made one for you," she told him proudly. "I know, I know. I'm amazing. Listen, diagnosing these sorts of things is way outside my area of expertise, but I think you might be what they call a kinesthetic learner. It means you learn by listening while being active. It's how you absorb information."

He briefly looked nervous. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No. No, not at all. It's different, but it's also probably a large part of what makes you such a great cop."

He glanced down at the MP3 player again. It seemed he was visibly moved by the gift, if the way he swallowed hard was any indication. "I don't know what to say," he bit out in a murmur.

"I've found 'Thank you' is always a good place to start."

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "This is incredible."

"Well," she replied cheerfully, her mood brightening as a result of his gratitude, "we'll see if you still think it's incredible once you're sick of my voice."

"I doubt that'll ever happen." Then he asked, "Does this mean you're not coming over to help me study tonight?"

"Do you hear me right now?" Lucy said of her rasp and pointed to her throat, "I sound like Joe Cocker… but I'd love to come keep you company, if you'll have me."

He nodded, a soft smile on his face as he told her, "I'd like that very much."

On July 12th, Lucy would turn twenty-nine. As excited as she got for other people's birthdays, she loathed her own. A day others associated with celebration and presents, she connected to disappointment, hurt feelings… and yet more disappointment. Ever since she was a child, her parents had bungled her birthdays. She'd never been allowed to blow out candles on a cake, because her mother claimed the practice was unsanitary. Her father would ask what she wanted as a gift, but her requests were largely ignored. Lucy vividly remembered asking for a paper bead making kit when she was ten, only for her dad to scoff, complain about the potential mess the glue would make, and buy her a gift he thought sheshouldwant instead. That summed up the relationship with both of her parents pretty well, actually. There was the woman they thought she should be, and then there was the woman she was. The feelings of mutual disappointment were exacerbated as Lucy got older, and the relationship seemed to deteriorate beyond salvation once she abandoned her master's program. After the latest falling out -first with her mother at Christmas and then with her father at the hospital- she figured there was a good chance her parents wouldn't even contact her this year. Although the thought made her sad, Lucy decided that might be for the best. Not having to pretend her way through a celebration that was suited more to their liking than hers might have been the closest thing to a gift they could currently give her.

Conflict with her parents aside, on July 11th she deactivated her Facebook and Instagram accounts. Deleting her social media for a few days served multiple purposes. For one thing, she liked to avoid an influx of birthday messages from people she hadn't spoken to in years. For another, and this reason was more pressing in her eyes, she wished to keep her birthday a secret from Tim. She didn't want him to feel pressured to do anything for her birthday while she was still walking the line between being his student and his soulmate, nor did she want him to feel like he had to sacrifice time that could've been used studying to make her feel special. Since he'd never asked, she figured she could get around telling him for another year. She'd carefully avoided disclosing her specific date of birth with Jackson and Nolan entirely, only identifying herself as a Cancer when asked. There was only one person in her life that knew the day, and that was Rachel. She was the sender of the sole birthday message she received the morning of, wishing her the best year ever in a text and following it with the promise to get together soon and a string of rainbow emoji hearts.

With her social media down and her parents MIA, Lucy's twenty-ninth birthday passed without much fanfare. As she did most nights lately, she spent the evening with Tim. He was due to take the sergeant's exam the second week of August, and so she helped him study. The night of the twelfth was warm and starry, so they took his studies onto the patio, sitting at the table as Lucy reviewed the material with him. He'd started keeping her favorite wine in the house for the nights she came over, and she sipped at a glass of it as they worked through the next book on his reading list. They ordered takeout from a nearby Greek restaurant, and she gorged herself on too many grape leaves, lamb kebabs, and baklava for dessert. It was as close to a perfect birthday as she'd ever come.

Tim's thirty-ninth birthday was five days later on the seventeenth, and Lucy -somewhat hypocritically, she admitted to herself- planned to make a big deal out of it. Mid-Wilshire operated on a staggered schedule, and it just so happened that they weren't scheduled on his birthday. She called him the morning of, and the moment he answered, she launched into the birthday song. He let out a quiet chuckle after she finished singing, then asked, "How did you know it's my birthday? Did Lopez tell you?"

"Nope," she replied. "Remember when I stole your money clip?" She still felt a rush of giddy satisfaction remembering how she'd fooled him by swiping the clip off of the back of his belt.

"You went through my money clip?"

"Uh, you're the genius who left your ID facing info-side out. I didn't have to go through a single thing. I just turned it over."

"A likely story from a known criminal."

She faked an attitude of self-righteousness as she replied primly, "Look, if you're going to be cranky with me, I just won't give you your present."

"You got me a present?"

"I have a whole afternoon planned for us, if you're free," she said through a smile. "Are you?"

He was, so she swung by an hour after their call. She offered to drive, but he insisted on taking his truck. Lucy somehow managed to convince him after that point to let her drive his truck because, "The birthday boy shouldn't drive himself to his birthday plans."

"I don't know." He made a show of hesitating, saying, "The last time I let you drive, you rolled the shop."

"That was one time, and I don't have any high-speed chases on our agenda."

"Bummer," he joked, then tossed her the keys.

It was the first and, she decided, last time she'd ever insist on driving his truck; while she could handle an SUV just fine -the day she'd rolled the shop had been a fluke, and nothing would convince her otherwise- this was nothing like that. His truck was lifted, which didn't bother her when she was riding shotgun, but they'd only made it a mile or two down the road when she decidedshe did not like driving it.

"Is this what it feels like to be tall all the time? This is anxiety-inducing! It's like driving a tank. How do you stand it?" she complained as she nervously steered them to a nearby Italian eatery for lunch. She'd called ahead to let them know they'd be by for to celebrate a birthday, and after a lunch, the staff brought out two chocolate strawberries and a piece of cheesecake with a single candle on top as they sang him happy birthday. He endured the entire song and the rest of the restaurant's applause with a flat, forced smile, then blew out the candle.

"I'm a little old for this, don't you think?" he asked after the waitstaff left.

"No one is too old for the birthday song," she scolded playfully as she stole one of the strawberries and bit into it.

After lunch, she took him to an axe throwing range. Lucy had wanted to find something to do in the same vein as the paintball park, but wearing all that gear in the summer sounded more fatiguing than fun. At least the axe range had the benefit of being inside. Rows called alleys were lined up side by side in a refurbished warehouse, with ample space in between each alley for the sake of safety. She and Tim were assigned an alley towards the back of the building, and the instructor walked them through different throwing styles before leaving them to it.

She weighed one of the axes in her hand and looked up at him. "They really just handed us a weapon and said 'have at it', huh?"

"Looks that way." Tim held the other two axes in his hands while glancing a wary eye toward the players in the rows to their right. He took to the activity pretty quickly, as easily as he had paintball, and it was something else watching the way the muscles in his back tensed beneath his gray t-shirt as his arm arced over his head to fling the axe towards the target.

"Damn, Tim," she said when one of his swings landed just a few inches below the red bullseye in the center, and she was only half talking about his throw.

Lucy had a harder time finding a groove with the game. He beat her score by a shameful amount, but that was just fine by her. It was hard to be upset about losing when every time he took his turn, she got an all-too-pleasant (if ultimately distracting) eyeful. She'd purchased an hour at the range, which meant they got through four games before their hour was through. He won three out of four, and the fourth she only won because he decided to go easy on her, talking up her attempts with more praise than they really deserved. After their time was up she drove him back home, then held the keys out and said happily, "I'm excited to never, ever drive your truck ever again. This was fucking terrifying."

He took the keys back with a smirk. "Thank you."

"For driving?"

"For my birthday."

She shrugged, but there was no hiding how pleased she was with herself as she told him, "It's not over yet. Wait for me inside?" She had stored her gift for him in the trunk of her car. It came in two parts, and both were wrapped in silver paper, topped with white bows.

He was waiting on the couch when she walked into the house, and he took one look at her, at the presents in her arms, and said, "I can already tell you shouldn't have."

"Too bad. I wanted to." She placed the stack of presents on his lap, then said, "Happy birthday, Tim."

He carefully unwrapped the largest package first. Underneath the paper was a brand-new record player. Not a particularly fancy or large one, just a little black-and-brown Jensen turntable. The second present was a record. Ella Fitzgerald's "Songs in A Mellow Mood" album. His breath caught in his chest as he pulled the paper off the vinyl, revealing a blue record sleeve with Ella's picture screen-printed onto it in black ink. "Oh, wow."

"I know vinyl is kind of pretentious, but," she reached out to run one finger over the edge of the sleeve, "I thought it's something we could build together? A collection of our own? It doesn't have to all be Ella Fitzgerald." It was daunting to refer to their future with ease, to link them together with such certainty. She found it just as intimidating to declare she wanted to build something with him and glanced at Tim nervously from the corner of her eye. "I know you said your mom was a collector, but you played Ella the other night I was over, so I thought-"

"It's perfect," he assured her, putting one hand on her knee as he met her eyes. "Lucy, it's perfect."

Setting up the record player was easy. It would need a permanent place, but for now, Tim put it atop the window seat and plugged it into the outlet behind the bench. He set the record on the turntable and brought down the needle, then closed the lid. There was the crackle of static as the vinyl began to spin, and soon, the sounds of gentle piano and Ella's voice filled the room.

She reached for his hand during the first verse. "You should dance with me," Lucy suggested, her voice barely above a whisper.

"What?"

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed? No one's watching," She tugged gently on his fingers. "Come on, Tim. Dance with me for your birthday. I'm only gonna offer once."

He turned his hand over in hers, wrapping his fingers around her palm before pulling her to him by the waist. Her free arm slid up his shoulder, and they spun a slow circle in his living room.

"You know," he began softly, "I never realized how tiny you are."

Lucy scoffed, feigning offense as she replied, "Way to ruin the moment, Tim."

"No, I like it. It's nice. You…" his hand fidgeted over her spine; she felt his fingertips drift lower, coming to rest on the small of her back as before he said, "you fit here well."

"Where exactly is 'here'?"

He pulled her closer, tighter, until her chest was pressed flush against his. "Here."

They continued swaying to the slow rhythm as the song played. Ella's voice floated over the melody, wrapping around lyrics that fit them so well, it nearly left Lucy breathless.

"In this world where many, many play at love and hardly any stay in love, I'm glad there is you."

They were back on the schedule the next day. Midway through the morning, Lucy spotted a familiar face at reception. It was a bit of a surprise to see Rachel at the station, but perhaps more surprising was that they hadn't run into each other at her job in the past six months of her working there.

"I've been trying to cut through the red tape with these civil standbys," Rachel complained after greeting her, "but I'm so far SOL." She cocked an eyebrow at Lucy. "Sure would be nice if I had a friend on the force to help me make some headway."

Lucy answered mournfully, "I wish I could help, but I'm below the bottom of the food chain around here." She glanced towards the bullpen, tapping her fingers on her belt as the thought, before a grin spread over her face. "Wait here," she said, then went on a hunt for Tim.

She found him outside the roll call room with Angela. Lucy nodded in acknowledgement to Lopez, then turned to Tim. "Sir, can I talk to you?"

"Aw, she still calls you 'sir' on the job?" Angela teased. "That's cute."

Tim shot her a warning look that had no bite to it, and Angela's grin widened as she stepped away without ribbing either of them more.

"I need a favor," she began once they were alone. "A friend of mine is a social worker. Her name is Rachel. She's having trouble making progress with civil standbys and I told her I'd try to help."

He crossed his arms over his chest as he took in her explanation. "So your idea of helping her is ropingmeinto it?" She only needed to pout a little for him to relent with a sigh. "Where's this friend of yours?"

She led the way to reception, where Rachel was still waiting.

"Rachel, this is-"

"-Oh my God, you're Tim! You're Lucy's Tim!" She took his hand and shook it enthusiastically as her gaze traveled over him, a quick but blatant (and maybe just a touch too eager) checkout. "Sorry, I'm just… wow. This is a surprise. I didn't expect to meet you today. I've heard so much about you."

He briefly glanced down at Lucy, a smug look on his face as he said half to Rachel and half to her, "Really?"

Lucy blushed as she replied, "I may have mentioned you once or twice."

"Hm. Interesting." He turned back to Rachel. "How can I help you?"

As she delved into the details plaguing her cases, Lucy excused herself to the break room to get fresh cups of coffee for the road. The pot was empty when she got there, so she had to wait while a new batch brewed. By the time she'd poured and prepared the coffee to their tastes and returned to reception, Tim and Rachel were wrapping up their conversation. He handed her one of his cards.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, okay?" Lucy heard him say.

"I will," she replied with a nod. "And I'll call you about that other thing tomorrow." As Lucy joined them, she smiled brightly. "Thank you, Luce. You're the best." She leaned in for a hug that was awkwardly reciprocated (her hands were full of coffee, after all). When she began to pull away, Rachel whispered in her ear, "He's even prettier in person."

She bit back a chuckle as she left, then turned to Tim and handed him his coffee. "What other thing is she talking about?"

"Hm? Oh. Nothing." He took a sip, wincing as he swallowed. "Ow, shit. That's hot."

"Well duh, it's coffee," she said drily. "What are you planning?"

"Planning?" He played dumb, and did so poorly. "I'm not planning anything."

She narrowed her eyes, skeptical of his reply. "Don't be coy with me, Tim. You're bad at it."

"I'm not being coy."

"Then why is she calling you tomorrow?"

"Because I asked her to."

"About her cases?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"Don't worry about it."

"'Don't worry about it'?" she scoffed. "Uh, that's my friend and, to quote Rachel here, you're 'my' Tim, so I'd say it's at least a little bit my business. Why won't you just tell me?"

He smirked. "All of that may be true, but this is not your business, Chen. Not this time, it isn't."

Chapter 27: Not Fooling Anyone

Notes:

"If something's worth saving
All of our hopes and fears
They may get tangled
But love's sincere
So we keep holding on."
- "Something Worth Saving", Gavin Degraw

Chapter Text

Tim filled a lot of spaces in her life. He was her training officer and her colleague. He was her friend, and a frequent confidant; she relied on him for his honesty and enjoyed his company. Most notably, of course, he was her soulmate.

He was also afucking liar.A kind, handsome, lying liar who lied, and she couldn't even feign anger over the fact.

"Not planning anything"? Yeah. Right.

Two days after she'd seen Rachel at reception, he invited Lucy over. That was not out of the ordinary. With less than a month to go before he took the sergeant's exam, she came by most nights lately; she was always glad to assist, and even more willing to do so when he offered to grab takeout from the nearby Greek restaurant again.Don't forget the baklava ;),she texted before leaving a note on the kitchen counter for Jackson.

Helping Tim study. Be home soon! L

She had no reason to suspect a thing as she knocked on the door. Tim greeted her as he normally did, with a smile that was slight and soft.

"Where are the books?" she asked, looking around the living room for his study materials, but seeing none.

He jerked his head towards the back door. "It's a nice night. Wanna study outside?"

As soon as Lucy opened the door to the patio, she was greeted by the roar of her friends yelling "Surprise!" It was only a small group that had gathered, but after letting the day slip by unnoticed, their cheers felt like a royal welcome. The adrenaline of the surprise still made her shake as she turned to Tim, a teary grin on her face as she punched him lightly on the shoulder. "You're such a liar."

He didn't deny it, just echoed their friends. "Surprise."

Rachel had been the one to let the secret about her birthday slip. While she stepped away to make new coffee, she'd mentioned it to Tim, wondering what Lucy had let him do to celebrate. According to Rachel, he'd looked crestfallen to learn that the day had passed by without a word from her, and at his insistence, they pulled together a quick barbecue party to celebrate. For dinner, Tim grilled burgers. It was still more fun and filling than any meal from any restaurant she could think of, and everyone that Lucy considered a friend was present. Jackson was there, grinning as he received her hug, smug at having succeeded in keeping this from her. Nolan attended solo; Jessica was in Annapolis for training, but she wanted him to pass on birthday wishes on her behalf. Angela was there too, holding the hand of a blond man Lucy had seen in passing, but had not yet had a chance to meet. She greeted both of them, thanked them for coming, and introduced herself to Wesley. He was friendly and attractive, and seemed pretty buttoned-up; with just a few minutes of conversation, she came to the conclusion that he was almost the polar opposite of Lopez, who was outgoing and confident. Perhaps that was what made them work, Lucy thought, and as she watched them interact throughout the evening, never really straying from one another's sides, she felt a twinge of longing for that level of tenderness.

"They're so cute together," she whispered to Rachel in an aside while Tim finished grilling the burgers. "I want that."

"Are you serious?" Rachel smiled but appeared somewhat puzzled by Lucy's statement. She took a sip of her beer before asking, "Where are we?"

"If you can't tell," Lucy teased, "it's time to switch to water."

"Funny," she replied with a shake of her head, then said, "Lucy. You're at your soulmate's house, at a party he threw for you." She gestured to the patio, to the pink and green streamers that hung from the strands of Edison bulbs, to the golden mylar balloons in the shape of a large "29". "I've known you for years, and for every single one of them, you were thinking about him before you even met. You're in the days you've been waiting for. You 'want that'? Look around you, babe; youhavethat."

It was the best birthday Lucy could remember having. True, her previous experiences were pretty sub-par, but even if that hadn't been the case, this still would've taken the lead. There were no presents, and she hadn't wanted any. The company, the conversation, the attention of the people she cared about was gift enough.

Tim was an atrocious singer, she thought as he led the party through the birthday song, changing keys no fewer than three times before the song was over. It made everyone giggle, and once it was done, he defended himself to her with a grin by saying, "I have other strengths, okay?" Angela hooked onto his statement at once, teasing him over these supposed strengths as Lucy blew out her candles and wished to feel like this forever.

It was late by the time everyone had their fill and parted for their respective homes. Tim and Rachel took care of the clean up once everyone had left, and though Lucy tried to help, she was shooed away by both of them, with Tim being the most emphatic on insisting she relax.

"You are not cleaning on your birthday," he stated, although his attempt at being stern with her lost its effectiveness when she noticed his lip quirk as he fought a smile.

"Technically, it isn't my birthday," she said as she reached for one of the dirty paper plates. "It's my party, and I can clean if I want to."

He pulled her away from the table before she could pick up another, his hands on her shoulders as she tried to struggle against his grip. Although his hold on her was playful, it was also firm and difficult to escape.

"Stop fighting me," he said with a laugh. Once she did, he released her. His fingers brushed down the length of her arms. "Let me handle this."

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised as she teased, "Don't think I'll ever get used to you telling menotto do things, Bradford."

"Would it help if I phrased it as an order, Chen?"

She pouted, but it was not sincere and did not sway him in the slightest. "Fine," she finally relented, "I guess I'll go see Rachel out."

Her friend was inside putting away the leftover cake when Lucy found her. "Thank you, Rach," she said and hugged her tightly.

Rachel squeezed her back. "Oh, Lucy. You're welcome." When they pulled apart, she added, "I know you hate birthdays so I hope it wasn't too unbearable for you."

"Are you kidding?" If every birthday could be like this one, there was a chance she'd come around to the whole idea of celebrating hers. "This was wonderful. Easily the best birthday I've ever had." Not that that was a particularly high standard to exceed, but still.

"Tim was pretty determined that we should make something work," Rachel noted with a smile. "He's a hard man to say no to." Searching her face carefully, she asked, "Does he treat you well?"

Although it had improved, there was no denying that their personal history was complicated. It was hard to sum up the truth without an hour or more to delve into the nuance of her experience as Tim's soulmate, and her friend was too insightful, too incisive to lie to. Lucy knew she was expecting a genuine answer, and it was one she wanted to give. What she settled on was, "We had a rough start. A few rough starts, actually." She grew somber recalling them as she revealed, "He's working hard to be the right man for me."

"And that's what he is?" Rachel asked. "He's the right man for you?"

Lucy nodded. At least of that she was certain. "For me, there's no one else. Not because I couldn'thaveanyone else, you know, but he's the one I want. He's the one I choose."

She walked Rachel to her car shortly after, then returned to the backyard and sat on the hammock while Tim finished cleaning up. The grill was still warm. Occasionally the evening breeze would catch the last bits of heat it was putting off, sending it over towards Lucy as she lay in the hammock, lazing contentedly with her eyes towards the sky. She rocked side to side beneath a heaven that felt open, the stars glinting through the canopy of green leaves the trees formed above her. She remembered when a peaceful night had been interrupted not long ago. How different things were now, though only a few weeks had passed, and even more different compared with the day they'd met. She thought of Angela and Wesley, and how their relationship appeared to fall into place with an ease she and Tim had not been afforded. Did she want what they had? And was Rachel right, that she had that already? Perhaps the physical aspects were missing so far -which was more to do with keeping things above reproach for the sake of work than an absence of desire- but without them, it had forced her and Tim to cultivate a different type of intimacy. Even if she longed for the day where could touch him, hold him, and more, she did not resent the present moment.

"Don't you fall asleep on me, Chen," Tim said, and she turned to look at him. "I haven't even given you your gift yet."

"You didn't have to get me anything," she said as she stood to her feet.

He reached into his pocket then, but muttered, "Ah, shit," as the corner of the box got caught on his jeans.

She smirked. "Do you need some help?"

"This is what I get for trying to be smooth. Let me just— there we go." He finally wrenched the box free from its awkward positioning in his pocket, and presented it to her with a boyish grin. "Happy birthday, Lucy."

She took the box with a smile, parroting back to him what he'd told her the night she presented him with the record player. "I can already tell you shouldn't have," she said before opening the box. Nestled inside black velvet was a ring, a pretty silver band that curled around a large oval moonstone.

"Angela helped me choose it," Tim said as she pulled the ring out of the box. "She said it's your style, whatever that means." He looked nervous as Lucy ran her thumb over the moonstone. "If you don't like it-"

"Shush, Tim." She silenced him with a smile as she slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand. "It's beautiful. I love it. Thank you." Then she hugged him, silently sending out a prayer of gratitude to the universe, thankful for her party, her present. For him.

He held her close for only a moment or two before releasing her with a deep breath. "Come on. I'll walk you to your car," he said. She led the way, and as they walked, Tim said, "Oh, I almost forgot. I have one more surprise for you," he said as they stopped beside her car in the driveway. "Short sleeves tomorrow."

"Really?" When he nodded, she broke out in a giddy laugh. "You could've saved yourself the trouble of a party and led with that, you know." Then she asked, "Aren't you worried what the others will think?" Recalling an earlier conversation, she wondered, "Won't people think you're 'going soft' on me?"

"Oh, please," he replied as he opened her car door for her. "I'm not fooling anyone."

Since Talia transferred, Nolan had been without an official training officer for weeks. His training had changed hands several times, sometimes with Grey, sometimes with Detective Armstrong, and enough times with Smitty that the older (or rather, even older) officer complained about Nolan's compulsive positivity at the morning meeting. A permanent answer was needed, and it came in the form of Nyla Harper.

Lucy was a combination of intimidated and intrigued by Harper the moment she met her. She trailed behind as Angela and Tim caught up to her after roll-call, a double-teamed attempt at figuring out her motive for stepping away from undercover work into a training officer position.

"It's gotta be a demotion," Tim theorized under his breath before they introduced themselves. "Surprised to see a detective volunteer as a TO. Most would see that as a step backward."

"Well, clearly you've never moved forward," Harper snapped back. "I get the appeal though, surround yourself with kids who don't know enough to see through your bull." She looked at Lucy, sizing her up with an unimpressed glare. "How old are you anyway? Twenty-two?"

"Twenty-nine."

"See? Practically a fetus." Harper smirked. "Aw, don't get your panties in a bunch, handsome." Lucy snickered, concealing it behind her hand as Tim shot her a dirty look. "It's nothing personal. I'm not saying you're not tough. I'm just saying you're not me."

As she walked away, Angela said, "Okay, so. I love her so much."

"Me too," Lucy agreed.

Tim's eyes flashed as he turned to her and asked, "Just whose side are you on?"

"Yours, usually," she replied.

"And I'm guessing you're not now?"

"Careful, Boot." Angela pretended to caution her, but she did not bother trying to conceal how much entertainment she derived from Tim's reaction to the new training officer. "Consider his panties."

"All right, that's enough of that," he retorted before stalking off, even as Angela called after him that she was only joking and he needed to lighten up.

"Well," Lucy started with a deep breath as she looped her thumbs through her belt, "I can already tell he's gonna make me pay for that somehow."

She was correct that Tim was a little grumpy with her for taking Harper's side, even in jest, but he thawed out quickly. Within the hour, their shift continued with him in somewhat better spirits. They intervened and arrested two social media opportunists at a hospital who were harassing a sick child and his mother in a ploy to get more followers by exploiting his illness. Arresting the pair was almost satisfying, and what schadenfreude there was to be had in the encounter came full circle when the boy pleaded with his mother to let Tim and Lucy pose for a picture with him. They only stayed long enough for a few photos, then took the harassers back to the station for booking. While completing the paperwork, Nolan called, brimming with fears about his new TO. Both attempted to talk him through his current scenario; Harper, seemingly on a whim, had adopted her undercover identity, leaving Nolan behind in the shop. The threat to her life was imminent, but she had ordered him to stay put. He feared professional repercussions for interfering, but also could not in good conscience stand by while his TO was in harm's way. Lucy deferred to Tim for most of the conversation, allowing him to coach Nolan through the situation to the best of his ability with the handful of minutes they had while she held the phone between them. When they hung up, he shook his head. "I don't like that."

"Harper?" Lucy asked, and he nodded. "I thought she was kind of impressive. Rough around the edges, maybe" —she paused to chuckle, becausethatsounded like someone she knew well— "but still impressive."

Tim disagreed. "Impressive or not, lone wolves like her are the worst. Patrol requires team work. A loose canon like that is a threat to the safety of the whole squadron."

"I'm sure Sergeant Grey wouldn't have let her in if he thought there was real concern for dependability, or for Nolan's safety."

"Not if what Jackson heard is true,"he replied. "He says she has a golden ticket."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means she had her pick of jobs, so what made her choose this? Why this job? Why here?" There was something at play that neither of them yet knew, and while Lucy was content to leave it alone, he was not, and for good reason. "She left her recruit unattended while she chased after a criminal under a cover identity. She essentially went off on her own little mini-op with no back-up, no support. Protocols exist for a reason; not just to protect the department, but to protect individual lives on the team. Reckless shit like that endangers everyone."

"You're probably right," she conceded, "but what what can we do? I mean, a golden ticket sounds pretty untouchable."

"I'm not looking to get her fired," Tim said. "That's not my goal, but keep your guard up with Harper until we know more about her, okay? Until we know what she's doing here. What she wants."

"Okay," she replied quickly.

His face was somber. "I'm serious, Chen. Don't drop it for a second, do you understand? "

She again agreed, then asked, "Why are you so worried about it?"

His response was quiet but pointed as he signed off on the file for their newest arrests. "I'll give you one guess."

Although they had a standing, unspoken agreement that she would help Tim prepare for the exam, he still made a habit of inviting her rather than assuming, allowing her the out when she needed it. It wasn't often that she declined, and she didn't after work that day, agreeing to meet him at his house after she'd showered and changed. By now they'd completed all the materials assigned to him by the chief and were working their way through a comprehensive review. When they called it quits for the night, she left for home, but her car battery was dead and failed to start even when Tim tried to give her a jump. They maneuvered her Datsun onto the street as she groaned.

"Well. This is mortifying."

Tim offered to drive her home. She accepted, and as he drove, he told her of his plans to call Dennis the next day. "He's visiting his son on the east coast right now, but I'm sure he can help when he gets back."

"At this point, I should consider keeping him on retainer," she grumbled as they pulled into her apartment complex.

"Need me to pick you up tomorrow?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," she said as she opened the door. "I can just go with Jackson for a few days."

"Come on. Let me give you a ride."

"You really don't have to."

"I don't have to do lots of the things I do for you. Have you ever considered I like doing them?"

She relented then because it was sweet of him to offer. It didn't hurt that he was better car company than Jackson; he'd never once fought her for control of the radio, even if his nose did wrinkle at a few of her choices. They made plans for him to pick her up an hour before their shift started the next morning. It was earlier than she usually went to the station, but she wouldn't be choosy about the time when picking her up required him to double back. He'd send her a text when he was in the parking lot.

His message arrived while Lucy was scrambling to find her shoes. Jackson watched her from a barstool at the kitchen counter, grinning over his coffee cup as he said, "You told him I can drive you, right?"

"Yes, Jackson," she replied as she checked under the couch a second time. "I told him."

"And?"

"And he insisted. Fuck me, where is my boot?" she whined as she stomped once with her shoeless left foot. "He's being nice."

"Yeah, that's a nice boyfriend you have there."

She narrowed her eyes at him as she answered, "I know you're just trying to get a rise out of me, but it won't work."

"I'm just saying it's nice to see how happy you are. I remember…" he trailed off, looking down at his coffee with a pensive stare.

"What?" she asked. "What do you remember?"

"I remember how hard it was for you in the beginning," he said. "When your timers first went off, I mean. It was tough seeing you like that. I don't know. I guess I'm trying to say, I'm really happy it's working out for you, finally."

His words warmed her heart, and she soaked them in just as spotted her boot next to the bathroom. As she went to retrieve it, Lucy asked, "Happy enough that you'd consider getting a timer of your own? It's been a while since Gino."

"Eh, I wouldn't go that far. Between your mess and now Nolan's, I think you can consider me totally, permanently deterred."

A knock on the door stopped her from replying. Assuming Tim had gotten tired of waiting, Lucy rushed to answer and felt her heart plummet when she opened it and found, not Tim, but her mother waiting on the other side.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

Her mother dragged her suitcase into the apartment, declared, "Your father and I are getting a divorce," then pulled Lucy into a stiff hug before helping herself to the kitchen. She glanced around with an expression of veiled disdain before reaching for a mug. "No kettle? Microwaved water will do, I guess. Where do you keep your green tea?"

"How… how did you know where I live?" Lucy stammered. There was a sputtering sound as Jackson choked on his coffee, and her eyes flew to him. "Traitor," she mumbled.

"Sorry," he mouthed soundlessly before chugging the rest of his coffee and rushing off to shower.

A second knock on the door made Lucy jump.

"Are you expecting company?" her mother asked.

"Shit," she muttered as she went to answer. This time, Tim was waiting for her. "Sorry. I got distracted."

"What's going on?" he said when he saw Lucy. "We gotta go. War bags need restocking."

Before she could respond, her mother peered around the door, shouldering Lucy out of the way as she said, "Oh my goodness, is that him? It is! I recognize him from his facebook photo." Her mother nudged her once with her elbow. "Oh my, well he's much handsomer than his picture."

Leave it to her mother to make a compliment sound like an insult.

She resigned herself to introducing them, heaving a weary sigh as she said, "Tim, my mother Vanessa. Mom, Tim, but you already knew that."

Her mother reached to shake Tim's hand, grabbing it eagerly. "Pleased to finally meet you." Still grasping his palm, she turned to Lucy and stated in a conspiratorial tone, "Oh, his eyes are very blue, aren't they?" Then she gasped. "Lucy, could my grandbabies have blue eyes?!"

"Mother!" she hissed, her cheeks erupting with a red heat as Tim laughed awkwardly. She grabbed her keys off the counter. "I have to go to work. Make yourself at home. But not too at home. The right amount of at home." Then she stomped down the hall, praying Tim would follow. He did, but only after bidding her mother goodbye.

"So," he began as they descended the stairwell, "That's your mom. "

"Afraid so."

"She's nice."

Lucy scoffed. "Of course she was nice to you, Mr. Tall, Blond, and Biceps."

"'Tall, blond, and biceps'?" he echoed, then asked with a cocky grin, "When did you start noticing my biceps?"

"I'm…" Still blushing furiously, she stammered out, "I-i am not… that's not relevant, okay? Don't change the subject. And if I seem flustered, it's because I just saw my mom for the first time in months and definitely not because I'm thinking about your biceps."

"No," Tim agreed cheekily, "Definitely not."

She woke the next morning to Jackson on the couch, her mother in an armchair, mid-therapy session.

"What's going on?" she asked groggily as she walked toward the counter. The sound of the coffee percolating followed by the smell of the grounds had roused her from sleep ten minutes before her alarm was due to go off. She reached for the carafe before pausing. "Where are the coffee cups?"

"I moved them," her mother offered cheerily. "They're so much better above the coffee maker."

Lucy looked up, seeing the row of ceramic mugs where she once had kept the wine glasses. "I like them better by the dish washer," she grumped, but nonetheless selected a red mug and picked up the carafe, pouring as she turned to look at her mother and Jackson. Her grip tightened around the handle as she saw the furniture had been rearranged. "Mom? Did you-"

"- Well you did say make yourself at home, Lucy. There's a better flow to the room now, don't you think?"

She stepped closer, certain at first that her eyes were deceiving her, but no. No, she wasn't seeing things. The picture that she kept on her nightstand -the one Tim had given her of the night his timer started counting down- had been moved to the coffee table.

"Mom. Why is my picture of Tim out here?" she asked, frowning as she tried to determine when her mother could've taken the photo. It was beside her bed the night before. She remembered seeing it just before she fell asleep the night before, recalling the reflection of her cell phone light on the glass as she plugged it into her charger and set her alarm. Had she snuck into her room while she was sleeping and snagged it? Was that what woke her up, and not the sound and smell of brewing coffee, like she'd originally thought?

Jackson, seeing that the situation was rapidly getting tense, wisely excused himself. He scurried away to his room and shut the door.

"I don't understand why you hid it away, dear," her mother replied plainly as she put her notebook to the side. "A man as handsome as that? You should display him, unless… Lucy, you aren't ashamed of him, are you? I know he's older, but your age gap isn't that large."

Lucy set her mug down. A little of the coffee splashed over the lip as it met the counter too hard and too quickly. "I am not ashamed of Tim, Mom, and our age gap is nowhere near an issue," she bit out. "That picture is special to me and I want to keep it that way. And 'display him'? He's a person, not a piece of modern art." Leaving her coffee on the counter, she walked towards the table, picked up the picture frame and stormed back towards her room.

Her mother followed close behind, explaining in a shrill voice the entire way. "I was just trying to make this place a little more homey." Her answer was pierced by Lucy's single chortle of disbelief. "You have no personal mementos out at all! You keep things so 'bohemian'. It's quite inaccessible to guests."

"'Guests'? What guests? Do you have it in your head that I do a lot of entertaining? Do you think I started channeling my inner Barefoot Contessa while we weren't speaking?" She carefully placed the frame back on her nightstand before turning to her mother and, continuing her stream of questions, asked, "Have you even tried calling Dad?"

"I don't see what your father has to do with this conversation," she answered coldly. "I told you I've left him. This isn't the first time we've come to this point. Remember when he forgot my birthday?"

"Gee," Lucy said; the irony was almost too much to handle. "I can't imagine what that's like."

Her mom's lips pressed together, forming a thin line before she responded, "I didn't think you'd want to hear from us after-"

"- I didn't."

"Well, then it sounds like I did what you wanted, and you don't get to be mad about getting what you want, Lucille."

Lucy grimaced and, pressing her palms against her forehead, bit back the half-dozen curse words bubbling up her throat. "How," she complained aloud through clenched teeth, "how am I supposed to have a functional relationship when this is the cloth I'm cut from?"

Her mother's grin was instant, almost cat-like in its smug satisfaction. "So youarein a relationship with Tim?"

She ignored the question, paying it next to no mind as she said, "I have to get ready for work. Mom, rearrange to your heart's content. Put the couch in the kitchen, alphabetize my spice rack. Hell, paint if you want to. I don't care. Leave this," she pointed to the picture, "alone."

Even though her thoughts were fogged by anger in the moment, Lucy recognized that her reaction had less to do with the picture itself than it did with Tim. Boundaries with her parents for her own sake were basically a lost cause, but for his? Those were worth drawing; those were worth enforcing, no matter the discomfort or personal cost. The more access her parents gained to him, the more of him they would feel they were owed or deserved. It was what they'd done with Lucy her whole life, and it was something she could not let them do to Tim. Sure, the picture was just a stand-in for the man himself, but she was ready and willing to endure the relentless judgment and poorly cloaked ire of both of her parents if it meant they gained no inch; if it meant he remained wholly hers, untouched by their prodding, probing, and analyzing.

Her mother did not attempt to guilt her over the line she'd drawn, which Lucy had been both anticipating and dreading. Instead, her eyes danced with hidden laughter, a smile pulling at her lips as she said, "Whatever you say, dear," before leaving the room without another word.

On the third consecutive day of her mother's stay, Dennis returned to town. He texted Tim about Lucy's car, promising to get to it soon; until then, she had no choice but to continue depending on him or Jackson for rides. He drove her home after their shift that evening, waiting in the parking lot while she went upstairs to check in with her mother before they went to his house to continue studying. She was surprised to find Mom by the door, packed and ready to leave.

She grabbed Lucy as soon as she came in, giving her another stilted hug and this time adding a gentle, somewhat condescending pat on her cheek. "Your father has decided to change his ways," she informed her, "and I've graciously decided to take him back."

"How… nice?" Lucy said uncertainly as her mom's phone dinged.

"Oh, there he is now. Bye, Lucy! Tell Tim I say hello!" Just like that, her mother was gone, and Lucy was left alone. It would never not surprise her how her mother could swirl in and out of her life so easily, and without so much as an apology or a true attempt at reconciliation for all the grief they'd given her. She also found it baffling that her parents were one another's soulmates and thirty-five years into marriage, but her mother saw no issue in threatening divorce so easily not once, but twice. Timers or not, there was no undoing toxicity that deep-seated, she guessed.

When she returned to the parking lot a few minutes later, she was still befuddled by the sudden turn. "You won't believe this," she began as she climbed into the truck.

"Your mom left?" Tim finished. "I just saw her go. She waved to me."

"Yeah, she said she took my dad back. That they made up, or whatever."

"Really?" He did not sound surprised, and she latched onto it immediately.

"Okay," she said, "just tell me what you did instead of sitting there all satisfied with yourself."

"I didn't do anything."

"Really?"

"Yep. It was all Wesley."

"Wesley?" Her brow furrowed. "But he's a defense attorney."

"Yea, but they don't know that. They just heard 'lawyer'. From what Wesley told me, it was a pretty short conversation with both of them."

She felt a smile spread over her face. "I can't decide if it's twisted or kind of sweet that you were so okay deceiving my parents just to get them out of my hair."

Tim shrugged, then smirked. "Why can't it be both things?" He added, "I know your parents haven't been great at supporting you, and I'd never try to make you force a relationship with them or anything, but don't feel like you have to hide them from me."

His statement left her flummoxed. "I'm not hiding them from you. I'm hiding you from them." She turned in her seat slightly, facing him. "My parents are… look. They tried. I'm sure they tried, and you would think two psychologists would do a better job at raising a child, but they never treated me as a person of my own. I was an extension of their own selves. It's why they hated when I quit school, when I chose to become a cop. I've dealt with it my whole life, so I can handle it, but I'd hate if they started treating you like an achievement, too. Like you were something they'd done instead of belonging to yourself."

"Oh," he mumbled. "Well, shit. I thought you were a little embarrassed of me."

"Embarrassed? Ofyou?"

"Yeah," Tim admitted with a nod. "I didn't know how much your parents knew about me, if they knew I was married when we met, or how badly I treated you. I thought you were keeping those things separate because-"

"-No." She interrupted him, stopping the thought in its tracks. "God. No, Tim. It was never about you. My parents are a wreck. You're, well…" she had to speak around the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat, "I haven't had someone in my life like you before. I'm not just talking about as my soulmate. I've never felt like I was supported. Like someone believed in me." Then, she whispered, "I guess what I'm trying to say is this is still pretty new for me. Having someone I know I can count on, someone I trust this much, it's new for me."

After a pause, she heard him say softly, "It's new for me, too. "

Chapter 28: Whiskey

Notes:

"I melt upon the altar of your grace
My mouth is pretty desperate for a shape
So I can say that I remain
Forever yours."
- "Little Cup", Noah Gundersen

This chapter is rated M!

Chapter Text

For as seamless as it had been letting Jackson into her life and her home, there were certain things they didn't do. They didn't split their groceries, for example, taking turns buying for the apartment within a predetermined budget. They didn't share a Netflix account. They certainly did not bring each other breakfast in bed. So when Jackson did just that the morning of August 1st, Lucy's gratitude lasted only seconds, and her suspicion quickly followed it.

"What's going on?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as she reached for the coffee on the tray.

He smile twisted into a wince as he fished a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his sweatpants. "This came in the mail for me yesterday."

She set the coffee down and unfolded the paper. It was a colorful card stock, scented like lilies. The back had initials written in a cursive typeface, a linked "C ". She turned the paper over. A picture of Cam smiled up at her. He stood on the beach with his arms wrapped around the waist of a pretty, grinning blonde woman. Beneath their picture, three words were typed.

Save the date,the card directed, followed by a date two months from today.

Lucy let the paper drop from her hands. It fluttered onto the tray, landing beside her toast. "Oh."

Jackson's wince became worry. "Are you mad?"

"Should I be?"

"I don't know… Should you?"

"I mean, this doesn't matter, does it? I wanted him to be happy. To find someone. And he did. In," Lucy counted quickly on her fingers and frowned, "less than six months." She crawled out from beneath the tray as she assured him, "Good for him. I'm happy for him."

"Are you sure?" Jackson asked. "You don't sound happy. You're doing that teeth thing."

"'Teeth thing'?"

"You know where you tense your jaw and talk through your teeth. That thing?"

She relaxed her jaw but her frown remained. "I'm fine. If he wants to marry the first leggy blonde that falls into his bed, let him."

"Luce-"

"I need a shower." She interrupted, walking towards the door, turning back just to grab her coffee. "Thanks for breakfast, Jacks. I'm just not really hungry right now." She carried her coffee to the bathroom, chugging it as she went. The last warm drop had just rolled down her throat as she let the door slam behind her and hot tears sprang to her eyes.

It was dumb to be this upset about it. She cared about Cam, but she'd never loved him; at least, not in the way he'd wanted to be loved by her. At best she'd only been attracted to and fond of him, and besides, for all intents and purposes, she and Tim were together. Their future was all but a sure thing. Not an if, but a when.

So why did it sting so much?

Jealousy,she thought. It wasn't that she wanted Cam back. Not that; never, ever that. It was that she wanted what he had, and in a best case scenario she was still months away from having it. Unlike the short sting of envy she'd felt seeing Angela and Wesley at her birthday party, this struck deeper; nearer, probably, because they were only a little over midway through a year that she and Cam had started as a couple, and he was already moving into a future she craved for herself. She would at the very least have to wait until her probationary year was over, and possibly longer depending on when Tim decided he was ready to pursue a real relationship with her. He'd made massive strides in his month since starting therapy, but he'd also told her he needed time. Lucy wanted to respect that, but there was no denying it. She wanted more.

The green glow of her timer caught her eye as she flicked the faucet to hot. Waiting, no matter how worthwhile the reward might be, sucked.

Her mood was still pretty sour as she left for her shift. At least Dennis had finished with her car the day before, allowing her the drive to work to decompress; to sing-scream over a Paramore album and forget the news about Cam. She was stern-faced through the morning meeting though, her attitude breaking only after she got the shop loaded up and Tim tossed her the keys.

"Why don't you drive today, Boot?" he said.

She looked down at the keys in disbelief. "You never let me drive."

"Hey if you don't want to-"

Her fist closed around the keys as she answered quickly, "No. No I want to." Without another word, she went to the driver's seat.

They hit their beat and and before long, dispatch contacted them with their first call. A convenience store not far off their path had received a phony hundred-dollar bill in exchange for ten dollars worth of goods. Legitimate cash had been tendered to break the hundred, the deception qualifying as theft. Tim was acquainted with the owner, a man named Amari, and took the lead as they answered the call. There wasn't much they could do except keep an eye out for the suspect, and Lucy made the mistake of touching the counterfeit bill without gloves, compromising any pull for prints they may have attempted. When Tim pointed it out as they returned to their shop, she was instantly remorseful.

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking." Then, after a pause to think, she said, "Wait a second. You normally get on me about stuff like that a lot quicker. And you're letting me drive today? What's going on? Oh my god." Realization crossed over her face. "Jackson told you, didn't he?"

"About…"

"About Cam's wedding. He told you to go easy on me today."

"Please. Like West can tell me to do anything."

"But he did, didn't he?" When he didn't deny it, she sighed. "Dammit. I knew I should've told him not to say anything to you."

"If it makes you feel any better," he offered, his tone glib, "I really didn't want to hear about your ex-boyfriend either."

"It's not a big deal. So Cam is getting married," she said, teeth clenching over his name. That was twice now that just the thought of him managed to elicit the same reaction out of her. "I'm happy for him. Them. Whatever. I'm fucking golden."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Then I'm driving," he decided, and snatched the keys back.

"Hey!"

"What? You said you were golden." Before she could protest, he nodded to the shop with a smirk. "Come on, Boot. We got a thief to catch."

They rolled down the streets slowly as they searched for their suspect. Amari had said he'd entered and left on foot, and provided a picture of the guy from the security camera. He wore a white t-shirt that said "Hi" in big red letters, a fedora, and star-shaped sunglasses. In all likeliness this guy was more of a casual crook, and there was a good chance he wasn't of entirely sound-mind when he did the crime given that he chose to commit it while wearing something so distinctive.

"You think it's dumb, don't you?" Lucy asked as they turned down a back street lined with eight-foot chain-link fences. "Letting a save-the-date bother me?" Tim said nothing even as she continued with a derisive snort, "Of course he replaced me with a model basically the second we broke up. I mean, could he be more cliche?"

"Are we still talking about this?" he asked gruffly, then followed it with, "Why does it matter to you? You said it was over."

"It is. It's so over, it just… sucks. We only broke up six months ago and he's already engaged," she sighed. "Even if we were wrong for each other, the idea that I can be replaced that easily feels really shitty."

"And that's all it is? There isn't a part of you that, I don't know." Tim hesitated, before posing his question in a whisper. "Is there a chance that you miss him?"

"No. Ew. No. Not at all," she said, then added quietly, "but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want what he has." She brushed one hand nervously over her forehead, looking out the window before she confessed, "I know we've sort of talked about the future before and… it's whatever, that's fine. I'm not…" she stammered halfway through her reply before saying at last, "never mind."

Tim was quiet for a second as they rolled down the street, then he asked, "You want me to have a friend scare him a bit?"

"What?" The offer was such a left turn from the more serious tenor of their conversation that she had to laugh.

"I know some folks that would lean on him a little if I asked. Just a little. No bloodshed."

There was no chance Tim would actually do what he was offering; he followed the law in letter and spirit, but it was a morbid attempt to make her feel better. Recognizing it as such, Lucy allowed herself a chuckle as she declined. "As tempting as that is, I'm going to have to say no. And you and I both know that half of the time your 'friend' is Dennis."

"He's tougher than he looks," he replied, and she snickered to imagine what the kind, older man that fixed her car and palled around with Tim would do when confronting her ex. What would that even look like? Fatherly disappointment? A stern talking-to with his gruff voice all gravelly, his gray eyes blazing? Definitely not so much a lean as a lecture, although Lucy rather enjoyed imagining Tim's friend giving her ex a dressing down, finger wagging in Cam's face as he scolded him. A new round of laughs died in her throat as she spotted their suspect in the distance and pointed him out to Tim. He flashed the lights, sounded the siren once, and pulled over.

"Hands on the hood," Lucy ordered as she proceeded to arrest the man. He complied, sauntering to the shop and placing his hands on the hood with an unbothered attitude. He didn't seem surprised that he'd been caught. She'd only gotten one cuff around his right wrist when a noise she couldn't place pierced the air. It was too ugly to be a melody yet it descended in a repeated pattern, three tones somewhere between a note and a buzz. It took her a second to figure out that it was coming from her phone. Not just hers, but Tim's as well. He looked at his phone, then up at Lucy, his eyes narrowed and nervous as he stepped closer to show her the screen. A cold shiver trembled down her spine as she read the alert.

BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT

INBOUND TO LOS ANGELES

IMPACT IN 29 MINUTES

SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

The reactions of fear from citizens was almost immediate. Lucy watched in disbelief as people rushed to cars parked by curbs, and those without vehicles stopped walking and began running. Shouts in the distance, and farther off, the sound of sirens. She was still mid-arrest, but the priority had clearly shifted, and she looked to Tim for guidance on what to do next.

He put his phone in his pocket and told her, "Let him go. We've got to get back to the station."

She un-cuffed the guy, and he took off at a jog, chuckling like he couldn't believe his luck. "This can't be happening," she muttered in astonishment.

Whereas she felt almost frozen by shock, Tim wasn't. "There's a good chance this is a false alarm," he tried to encourage.

"A false alarm?"

"The same thing happened last year in Hawaii. Some malfunction or something."

"You really think the same thing could happen twice?"

"I didn't say that," he replied. "I'm saying we don't have all the facts yet. Keep your head in the game, Chen. We don't get the luxury of panic."

They returned to the station with some difficulty. The notification had caused widespread chaos, making driving a challenge. Even with the lights and siren going, people seemed to ignore their passing. The station was buzzing with activity when they arrived, and Sergeant Grey was preparing to brief the whole staff in the bullpen.

"We can't verify that the alert is real, but real or not, everyone in the city needs our help. So I don't care if you've been off the street for twenty years. If you have a badge, you're going out today. Protect the community. Ignore petty crimes. Focus on the people." He sighed as he glanced around at his team, at the several dozen faces that turned to him now for orders and guidance; to Lucy's eyes, he seemed overwhelmed, but he did not let it rule him. Sergeant was a leader, through and through. "All right, let's get to work."

Lucy turned to Tim after Grey had finished speaking. "The missile's going to be here in nineteen minutes," she whispered. "How can we even help?"

He didn't have a real answer for her; the best he could do was, "We've gotta do what we can". They left the station a second time, choosing to go on foot. Tim gave the keys to their shop to a pair of officers who worked desk jobs and were less accustomed to patrol work. They consoled the people who needed it, directed citizens to take cover, and turned a blind eye to the few occasions of looting they saw. They'd been out for ten minutes when they found themselves once more on the same street as Amari's store. Lucy's heart sank as it came into view. The storefront windows were busted out, and a small group of looters ran away with goods as Amari fired after them with a shotgun.

Tim ducked, shielding Lucy with one arm as he called to Amari. "Amari, it's Tim!"

Amari lowered his gun and peeked out the door. "Bradford?"

"You all right?"

"They're robbing me, man! Lewis took a bottle to the head!" While Tim talked to Amari, Lucy went to examine the cashier's wound. It leaked freely, a clean split above his right eyebrow.

"You'll need stitches, but you'll live," she told him as she replaced the cloth and wrapped his hand around it. "Keep pressure on it, okay?"

"Why don't you take him around the corner," Tim suggested. "To your house? You'll both be more comfortable there."

Amari shook his head. "I can't leave my store. Power's out for the whole block. Freezer, alarm system, even my security camera is down."

Tim's temper flared, his exasperation showing as he replied, "It's just stuff, Amari. If this is real, you should be with Serena. With your son."

"If it's not real, I'll lose everything."

"And if it's real," Lucy interjected, "you'll spend your last moments on earth with stuff instead of the people you love. We can take care of your shop."

Convinced -and at least a little motivated by Lucy's offer to stay- Amari and Tim got Lewis to his feet. The injured man hobbled a little as they headed down the sidewalk, leaning on his boss for support. When they were out of sight, Tim glanced at his watch.

"How much time do we have left," she asked quietly.

He walked over to the liquor shelf and grabbed an unopened bottle of Wild Turkey. "We have enough." He cracked open the bottle and took a sip, then held the bottle out to her. She begged off.

"Not really a whiskey girl," Lucy said, then glanced at the shelf for herself. She soon spotted a new bottle of Cuervo tequila. She opened it, then held it up in a cheers as she said shakily, "To the end of the world."

He clinked the neck of his bottle against hers. "Whenever that may be," he toasted, and then they both took a long pull from their liquors.

Room temperature tequila was a pretty lame last drink, but it would do in a pinch, she thought through a wince as she swallowed, the liquid warming her all the way down. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, then turned to Tim and said, "You know why Cam and I broke up?"

His first response was to frown. "You want to spend what could be our last moments on earth talking about your ex-boyfriend?" When she shot him a pleading look, he relented. "Go on."

"It was because of you."

"Me? What did I do?"

"He didn't know my TO was my soulmate when we started dating," she said; it was an admission she still felt shame over, no matter how many months had passed. The hurt in Cam's eyes haunted her. She would always regret her dishonesty, no matter how pure she believed her motives to be at the time. "I kept that a secret for way too long. Needless to say, it turned out pretty badly." Another sip from the tequila, then she asked, "Do you remember the night I stayed in the hospital, after I fell on a dirty needle? How Cam came to visit?" He nodded. "He wanted me to promise that I would never leave him for you."

"He did?"

"Yes. Obviously, I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

At the time, she had still been guarded about her future concerning Tim, unwilling to admit even to herself that she would always choose him. In the moment, she'd told herself she was choosing him just for now. She had since realized there was no "for now" with them, only someday; and after that, it would be always.

"It wasn't a promise I was willing to make. Not to him. Not to anyone." Her throat thickened with emotion as her lower lip began to tremble. "I chose you in the hospital that night, Tim. Even though you were still with Isabel, I so badly wanted it to be you that I chose you then. I didn't see how there could be anyone else for me, and I just had to sort of stupidly hope that you would feel the same way one day." She looked down at the bottle of tequila, running her thumb over the label as she avoided his eyes, almost too full of feeling for her heart to bear. "I think I probably loved you a little bit, even then. You know," she laughed sardonically before lifting the tequila to her lips again, "back when I had no right to."

He said nothing for a long time, but she felt his eyes on her; sensed the way they traveled, taking in not just her expression, but her entire frame. Her face felt hot, and she was certain her cheeks turned pink not just from the alcohol, but from his silent appraisal. When he spoke, his voice was low and husky.

"Take off your belt," he said.

She looked up. "What?"

Tim put his whiskey aside, then took off his belt and set it on the countertop. "Take off your belt," he repeated, so she did as he asked, figuring he must have decided the risk was low in these last minutes before a missile might or might not hit Los Angeles. Once she placed her belt beside his, he closed space between them; half by stepping towards her, half by pulling her towards him while gripping her hips.

"Not dying without doing this once," he mumbled as his hands cupped her face. His fingers splayed beneath her jaw as he tilted her face upwards. There was a long moment where she held her breath as Tim looked into her eyes before his lashes fluttered closed and his lips found hers.

This first kiss was gentle. Sweet, almost annoyingly chaste, and it passed quickly. Much, much too quickly, nowhere near long enough for her liking. He began to pull away before she got her fill, lowering his hands to her shoulders as he eased her down with an earnest (if a little nervous) smile on his face.

If he thought she was finished -if he thought that wouldeverbe enough for her- he was mistaken.

Lucy hooked her fingers into his collar as she rose up onto her tiptoes before pulling him back towards her, moaning slightly as their lips collided a second time. His were still wet from the whiskey, she realized as she ran her hands down his front, her fingers just as hungry for the rest of him. She parted his lips with her tongue, perceiving again the bittersweet tang of the liquor as she explored his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon, like caramel, like alcohol, and something completely other. Heavenly; transformative. It was something all him, occupying two senses, simultaneously a taste and a feeling.

Thank God they'd never kissed before, she thought giddily. Thank God they'd almost always skirted physical affection with rare exception, because now that she was kissing him… now that his body was beneath her hands, responding to and reciprocating her touch with enthusiasm,how was she ever supposed to stop? She could drink this in forever and never be satisfied.

Tim palmed the flesh just below her ass before picking her up in one smooth motion. He deposited her neatly onto the counter beside the cash register, then stood between her parted thighs. Throughout, his mouth never left hers. Was it like this for everyone who got to kiss their soulmate, she wondered, with all common sense and rational thought disappearing in a blink? If the alert was false and they lived to see another day, would she always be overwhelmed by this urge that bordered on primal; by a storm surge of love and lust? How could she stand being ravished so perfectly by the hands and mouth of her soulmate? Hell, how couldanyone?How were either of them expected to lead discreet little lives after feeling this way, and only from kisses? Even fully clothed, her legs trembled with anticipation on either side of his hips, and for a moment she felt certain she'd burst into flames before the bomb ever landed.

His touch had become greedy as he pulled her body ever closer to his. So this is why he told her to take off her belt, she realized. He may have held back for that initial, timid kiss, but he'd hoped for this. Planned for it, even, allowing her the chance to take the lead, which she'd done eagerly. Their gear-laden belts were clunky and would have gotten in the way. His hands pressed against her back, one insistent between her shoulder blades, the other around her waist. She felt the telltale sensation of need as it pooled between her thighs; all the want that she'd suppressed since meeting him, schooling it into latency… all of it had erupted at once as his lips returned her kisses with a fervency she struggled to match. She felt the heat and hardened longing that radiated from him against her middle as he held her close. He wanted her, too, and it was a revelation that made her groan into his mouth.

Surely the minutes were ticking by, but Lucy did not care. So what if this is how she went out, she thought as his lips traveled lower to the exposed skin of her neck. He roughly yanked down her collar to press his mouth against her neck without fabric interfering, and her eyes rolled towards the back of her head before slipping shut with a sigh. Desperation nearly made her grab his hand to direct his fingers towards the pleasant ache pulsing between her legs. She craved to have his touch edge her closer to release, but she restrained. There wouldn't be time for both of them to get off, and besides, this -after months of self-denial- was more than enough for her.

His teeth grazed her skin, and she half-moaned, half-giggled as she pressed her fingers against his scalp, holding him in place. Let the missile land now, she thought wryly, wantonly. She would die a fulfilled woman.

Suddenly, the radio crackled to her left. Sergeant Grey's voice came through the speaker.

"Attention all units: missile alert is a false alarm. I repeat, missile alert is a false alarm."

Within the span of a single breath, all of the passion in Tim's touch evaporated. Their arms dropped as they untangled from one another's clutches. His eyes had gone cold; the heat in his gaze faded with every second. His lips were red, a little swollen from kissing her, and the skin of his neck was rosy from exertion and arousal. The collar of his uniform was rumpled from her tugging, and his fly was unzipped. With a blush, she remembered undoing his pants, but the recollection was hazy and colored by lust, the action less conscious than it was driven by her more primitive desires. She noticed his shirt was untucked as well; had she pulled it out of his waistband without realizing? They had come closer to crossing that final line than she initially believed, and though neither of them dared to speak it aloud, an unasked question hung in the air between them.

What happens now?

Chapter 29: Don't

Notes:

"Amazing how life turns out
The way that it does
We end up hurting the worst
The only ones we really love."
- "Inevitable", Anberlin

Chapter Text

There was no time to process; no time to wonder. No time to speak aloud how much a kiss (andwhat a fucking kiss) had affected them. The missile alert was false, and shortly after informing them, Sergeant Grey directed the units to sound off in numerical order with their status. As she listened to the roll, Tim turned away, his back towards her as he zipped his pants and tucked in his shirt. He did not meet her eyes as he reached for his belt, affixing it silently before offering his hand to help her to the ground. When their turn came, he called in for their unit.

"7-Adam-19; we're on our way back to the station," he said before tucking a few bills into the register to pay for their drinks, and the question ofwhat happens nowwas effectively tabled when Amari returned to thank them and began cleaning up.

It was further ignored -and rightfully so- when Angela called him just as they reached the bullpen. Lucy could hear her frantic tone through the speaker; although she was not able to make out individual words, there was no mistaking the shrill panic in her voice. His face fell as she spoke, worry creasing his brow as he tried once or twice to comfort her. Finally, he said, "I'm on my way. Just stay calm," and hung up. Immediately after, he contacted dispatch and had their unit put on 10-6 personal.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked.

"Someone stabbed Wesley at the courthouse," he replied and picked up his pace as he jogged towards the garage. Lucy had to run just to keep up with him. "We're going to the hospital."

They entered the waiting room to find Angela pacing, her face streaked with dried tear marks. Her gaze alternated from the clock on the wall to the timer on her wrist every few seconds; her mouth moved almost soundlessly, as if she were uttering a prayer that only she could hear. Jackson was with her but, given his grim expression, was himself at a loss for how to console her. The second she spotted Tim, Angela went to him and grabbed him into a tight embrace before she began to cry anew into his shoulder.

"I can't lose him, Tim," she sobbed, the sound muffled by his shirt. "I can't lose him when I just got him."

While he consoled her, Lucy went to Jackson and took the seat to his left. "What happened?" she whispered.

He relayed the story in a solemn, almost disconnected tone. When the missile alert came through, they evacuated to the fallout shelter under the courthouse. The judge had tried to lock out half of the gallery and all of the men on trial. Wesley had advocated for the mens place in the shelter, and a known criminal named Oscar Hutcherson stabbed him when a fight broke out. No doubt there was more to the story, but Lucy knew the details were irrelevant now, almost pointless to ponder when Wesley's fate was still unknown and Angela was devastated. She was glad that Tim was present to comfort her, but wished there were some way she could help as well.

The surgeons had rushed Wesley to the front of the line; the extent of his injuries, the severity, and how long he'd been bleeding out before anyone noticed he'd been hurt were all factors in his yet-unknown prognosis. Even with their immediate attention, it was soon clear that it could be hours before the doctor could update them on his status. After the first ticked by, Jackson returned to the station to drop off their shop. Once he was gone, Tim decided to get her something to eat.

"I'm not hungry," she replied dully when he first offered.

"Lopez," he insisted through a frown, "you'll feel better if you eat." Then he looked at Lucy, holding her eyes for just a second before looking away. "Keep her company, will you, Chen?"

She nodded. Left alone, Lucy took the seat beside Angela, whispering an apology for Wesley's injury after a moment. Another moment of silence followed, punctuated by the sound of Angela's stuttered, tearful breathing and the phone at the nurse's station, the occasional chatter of doctors in the hallways. After a few minutes, she said, "Lopez?"

"Yes?"

"I know when it looked bad for Tim, there was no consoling me," she began meekly, "but if there's anything I can do for you, I'm here."

Angela sniffled once, then said with weak chuckle, "Can you go to my house and grab a few things for me after work? I don't think my friendship with Bradford will survive a journey through my underwear drawer."

Lucy laughed too. "I can do that for you."

Wesley pulled through.

Not long after Tim returned with a cup of coffee and a sandwich for Angela, the doctor entered the waiting room with news. The surgery was a success, and with rest and a few weeks to heal, he would make a full recovery.

He was awake when Lucy came to the hospital that evening after her shift, toting a gym bag of Angela's belongings. Awake, but groggy, and in and out of sleep even during her brief visit. She watched the way Angela cared for him, how she held his hand even as he slept, and although she did not envy Wesley for his wounds or Angela for her worry, she felt the jealousy from that morning gnaw at her stomach once again. There was no denying that she longed to have that sort of closeness with her soulmate; no denying that she was anxious for the chance to show affection openly, for once. She remembered her kiss with Tim, blushing to recall how hungry his mouth had felt against hers, and wanted more. Not the stolen moments when they thought death was just around the corner, but something… honest. She wanted the passion (and if their single kiss was anything to go by, they hadthatin spades), but she also wanted the simple things. To hold his hand in public. To embrace him openly, without fear of judgment or professional reprisals. If this day had taught her anything, it was that tomorrow was not promised. She remembered what Angela had murmured against Tim's shoulder, a heartbreaking confession that resonated with Lucy.

I can't lose him when I just got him.

Three times now. Three times she'd wondered whether she was losing Tim forever, and she didn't even have him yet.

She didn't go home. She should have, and she meant to… but she drove to Tim's house on autopilot, not fully cognizant of where she was going until she turned onto his street and pulled into his driveway. She sat there for twenty minutes, not sure what to do next; the day had left her dazed. She had so far been unable to shake the feeling that now that she'd kissed him everything had changed, and was uncertain how to behave when only hours before she'd trailed her hands down his body. She'd yielded to him freely, to his mouth, to his touch, and it felt like every want that had so far been abstract became necessity when she felt him harden between her legs.

She had not yet worked up the nerve to go inside when Tim walked up to her window and knocked, jolting her out of her thoughts.

"Are you okay?" he asked when she rolled down her window.

She silently shook her head.

"Do you want to come in?"

Lucy paused only a moment, then nodded and rolled her window back up before he opened the door for her. She followed him a few steps behind, watching him walk, her eyes traveling over every hidden muscle, every firm line and curve of his body. All of that had been under her palms just hours ago, and she ached to have it once again. The moment Tim shut the front door behind them, she grabbed his hands, interlacing their fingers before he could stop her.

"Lucy," he began, his voice closer to a warning than affectionate.

Still, she held him tight. "Don't pull away, Tim," she pleaded.

"I'm not."

She had to smirk, if only because the lie was so poorly delivered. "You've been pulling away all day." She released his hands just to bring hers up to either side of his face and pull him lower. Her lips brushed over his lightly, once and only once; the kiss was cold and unreciprocated. "Don't pretend it didn't happen," came her whisper, begging. "Don't make us go backwards." She saw a flash of pain in his eyes for a reason she could not name, and it made her a little angry. "You kissed me first."

"You kissed me back," was his weak reply.

"Yeah, because I love you." Her retort was accompanied by a sound of disbelief, a cross between a chuckle and a gasp that tore out of her throat before she clapped both hands over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that, no matter how true it was; sure, by now they'd said it plenty in roundabout ways, but having those three words laid out in order was something both had so far avoided. Lucy was furious with her dumb mouth for blurting it out like it was nothing, like it was easy. In truth, it was neither. The words were everything, heavy and special, and they had sucked all of the resolve out of her body.

She shushed him before he had a chance to respond. "Don't," she seethed, seeing how his mouth went to form the words on reflex. "Don't say it back unless…" She trailed off, the ultimatum burning on her tongue.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you're ready to make this real." She rushed to explain before she lost her courage. "The job will never get easier, Tim. It will never get safer. This won't be our last close call, and I'm tired of waiting. Aren't you?"

"But your training-"

"- What about it? I'll switch to Smitty. Or Mahoney. Hell, I'll finish my year on Wrigley routes if I have to."

"People will talk."

"Let them." She risked touching him again, running her hands up his arms and pulling him down to meet her lips in a deep kiss. This time he returned it, if hesitantly. After a minute, she leaned back to say, "I don't want to wait anymore." Her fingers trembled a little as they traced lower, down the expanse of his chest until they grazed the top of his pants. Unlike their heated make-out at Amari's store, this time she was clear-eyed, coherent. No longer was she overpowered by her own desires; now, she worked alongside them. She dipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, tips ghosting over the skin that covered the space between his navel and his dick. He groaned as she grazed the elastic hem of his boxers, going no lower but willing to, if only he'd agree.

"Please, Tim." she murmured, allowing her need to imbue every syllable. "Don't say no to me tonight."

His eyes rejected her before his lips did, broadcasting his decision as loud as a shout as his gaze bored into hers. She withdrew her touch slowly, hoping he'd change his mind before all contact had broken.

He didn't.

"Lucy," he began, an apology all over the way he said her name.

She cut him off with a shake of her head. "Wow," she huffed as she stepped back on unsteady feet.

"What?"

"Just a really shitty feeling." Her arms crossed one over the other against her chest, and she tilted her body away from him as she avoided his eyes. "Not even a brush with death by nuclear bomb is enough to get my soulmate to fuck me."

"Don't say that," he protested. "That's not fair."

The wordfaircaught her attention -and her ire- at once. "No, what's not fair is it's always what you want, Tim. It's not fair that it's always your choices and your timeline for things."

He ignored her jabs, saying only, "I'm not going to let you make an impulsive choice that you will want to take back tomorrow."

"So you're the only one who gets to be impulsive?

"Come on, hon-"

"-Don't," she interrupted, cutting him off with a shake of her head. "You wish you hadn't, don't you? You wish you hadn't kissed me?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to. It wasn't long before she stopped waiting for his reply, but even as the door slammed behind her, Lucy regretted storming out of his house. He hadn't told her no, never. He hadn't told her no at all, actually. She knew him well enough by now to guess that his rejection was meant to protect her. His denial was temporary. Conditional.

Conditional or not, she thought as she sped away from his house, it still hurt like hell.

He had tried to call her the night before; she ignored him. He had tried to text; his messages were left unread. The next morning, Lucy walked through the bullpen with lowered eyes, certain her coworkers would read in the tilt of her head, the unexplained redness of her cheeks, that something had occurred the day before. No one mentioned anything. She kept her head down as she entered the roll call room, avoiding everyone's eyes, especially Tim's.

It seemed like a stroke of luck when Sergeant Grey switched up the assignments for the day. Nolan was sent to assist with a program at Shaw Memorial. Jackson and Tim were paired up to oversee a summer football camp, and Lucy and Nyla would run a community meeting before going out on patrol together.

"Uh, what is this, the fifties?" Nyla asked with obvious disdain as Tim rolled his eyes beside her. "The men go to football practice while the women run the PTA?"

Sergeant Grey acknowledged her comment with a smirk, and within a few minutes, the team dismissed to the bullpen for a challenge coin showdown. Whoever slid their coin closest to the edge of the table won, and the victor got the football camp assignment. Tim went first and did well, but Nyla bested him when her coin came to a stop mere millimeters from the edge.

She grabbed her coin, then turned to Tim and crowed, "On second thought, we'll take the meeting. Have fun, handsome." Then she glanced towards Lucy. "Roll out in fifteen, Not Nolan," she said before stalking away, appearing pleased with herself for leaving the Sergeant exasperated and Tim befuddled.

Lucy's snickering attracted his attention. Her grin faded the second he looked at her, his gaze some mix of kind and worried. As the other officers dispersed, a struggle played out plainly on his face, evident in the way his jaw clenched as he sought to meet her eyes. It was obvious he didn't want to say too much within earshot of the others, but he also didn't want to let their shifts begin without coming to some sort of peace. After a moment or two, what he settled on was, "I just want to make sure you're okay."

Her answer was easy, if a little short, and was spoken through a smile that had no joy to it. "Why would I be?"

Lucy was glad for the break from Tim, thankful for the immediate distance that being assigned to Harper, even just for the day, gave her. She'd ridden with officers who were women before; Talia twice, and Captain Andersen once. The lessons she learned from both had been a bit more nuanced, nothing like the daily Tim Tests that had all the subtlety of a jackhammer. There were aspects to being a woman on the force that no man could teach. While the other women Lucy had trained beneath instilled valuable insight with subtlety, Officer Harper did the opposite. Where the others had come alongside her more like mentors, Nyla pulled no punches.

Literally.

The shift had started easy enough with a community meeting. Nyla gave her very little advice beforehand, instructing Lucy (dubbed for the day "Not Nolan") only to tell citizens they had a "task force" on any issue that might arise, but that excuse lost steam by the fourth time she used it. So the meeting was not entirely a flop, she agreed to take a few addresses to address a handful of issues, like for a neighbor feeding squirrels and another with a growing collection of junk cars that was both unsightly and a safety hazard. When the meeting drew to a close, they went out on patrol.

The first call dispatch sent their way took them to a storm drain. Complaints of men dwelling at the bottom had been placed by several citizens. They were possibly homeless, and judging by the gut-roiling smell of burning plastic and sugar when they neared the end of the corridor, meth users. A large man emerged from the shadows and attacked Nyla; a second went after Lucy. While Nyla was able to subdue her attacker quickly, Lucy had a harder time, and it was only when the other intervened that she was able to snap cuffs on him. While Lucy was grateful for the assist, Nyla was livid.

She glared at her and said, sternly and a little out of breath, "Community meetings are clearly all you're good for, Not Nolan."

Before Lucy could retort, she turned away. "You're wrong about me," she countered to her retreating back. "I can do more than meetings."

Nyla glanced at her sideways. "You're probably really good at paperwork. And coffee? I bet you get Bradford's coffee just perfect, don't you Not Nolan? Like the good little future housewife you are."

The dismissal smarted, and bringing Tim into it made her briefly see red. "I'm not a housewife," she bit out through clenched teeth.

"You are also not a fighter, and if you're going to be a woman patrolling these streets, you either gotta learn how to fight or get used to staying in the station." As Lucy seethed, Nyla smirked. "You want to hit me, don't you? Someone a little more your size? Think you'll stand a chance?" She spread her arms. "Do it, Not Nolan. Hit me."

Because she insisted, Lucy swung and was on her back in seconds. Her vision blacked out for a moment or two as Nyla stood over her. "You are not a 6'2" 200 pound man. Bradford might be a good TO, but he can't teach you how to fight the way a girl's gotta. We get a higher show of force, especially from men, and when you are all that stands between a desperate suspect and his freedom, you cannot afford to think, 'Oh shit, he's bigger than me'." She reached down and yanked her up, bringing her eye level as she met her stare sternly. "If you want to survive these streets as a five-foot-four woman and one of color, no less, you better start learning what that man of yours doesn't know how to teach."

She seethed over Nyla's comments for the first half of their shift, parsing each barb in order to deny it, if only in the privacy of her own mind. The dig about being a good housewife stung in particular, and so what if she knew how Tim liked his coffee? How didthatmake her a cop whose only utility was community meetings? But as the day wore on and she thought about it, not all of her words felt false. Lucy liked to think she could hold her own in a fight, but the truth of the matter was she failed to do so today; it was only thanks to Harper that she made it out of that gutter unharmed. Of all the officers she'd trained beneath, Nyla was the first to point out this glaring hole in her abilities. By the afternoon, she'd come around to the idea that there was more to learn, and as harshly as the criticism had been leveled, it wasn't wrong.

But the remark about "that man of yours" was one she could not explain away, and she brought it up that evening after their shift had come to an end.

"What did you mean by 'that man of yours'?" she asked without preamble outside the locker room.

Nyla did not seem surprised by her question. "I could tell you've been stewing on that all day, Not Nolan," she teased. "Lopez got me up on the good gossip my first day here. Timers going off on the first day? Quite the start to your training, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was tough, I guess."

"And you're probably used to him having your back, aren't you? Is he normally there to bail you out?"

Lucy felt defensive on his behalf. "Look, if you don't think he's training me well-"

"-Now slow your roll, Not Nolan. I never said Tim isn't a good TO. No disrespect to your man-

"- he's not my man," Lucy interrupted.

This made Nyla grin. "Sure he isn't," she said in a tone that didn't sound at all convinced. "I saw the way you talked to him this morning. I know you probably thought you cruised under everyone else's radar, but not mine. It's pretty obvious you guys had some sort of 'lover's spat' or whatever.

"Look, Tim has done a fine job with you. You're smart and you've got guts. That stuff isn't taught, it's honed, and the parts that are missing… well, maybe it's because he's busy toeing lines you've never had to worry about."

"Because he's my soulmate?"

"Because he's your teacherandbecause he's your soulmate," she clarified. "Every day you're out there, he's training you while fighting this other, stronger instinct that wants to keep you safe. He does that all while balancing the expectations of his job, securing your career, and keeping everything above board so the brass doesn't come down on either of you. It's gotta be a lot to juggle."

Lucy was ashamed to admit she'd never thought about it like that. "I didn't realize… I mean, I knew some of it… I guess I didn't think it would be hard for him."

"Really?"

"My first day, he said training me wouldn't be an issue."

Nyla's brow furrowed. "Then I think maybe you should work on being a little more grateful, and a little more gracious."

She straightened at this new round of scolding. "I am."

"Oh, please. Like I didn't see how relieved you were getting assigned to me. I'd bet my badge you were happy to get away from whatever problem it is that you have with him today." She shook her head once, then looked at Lucy with a resigned expression that hinted at a wisdom not learned, but earned. "Let me be clear here, Not Nolan: I do not know what happened and I do notwantto know what happened… but you should try to see from his side a little more. It might illuminate some things for you. And don't run from him, whatever you do. Take it from me Chen, running is the worst thing you can do."

She beat him home. Whatever Tim and Jackson had done during their shift, it delayed them, and for an hour Lucy sat in her car parked on the street in front of his house. During that time, she mulled over Nyla's words, comparing them against the things she'd said in the heat of her anger the night before. There was a lot to work through, a lot to consider, and something that Nyla had pointed out had left her a feeling a little frazzled. She knew that she and Tim were expected to keep their behavior above reproach for as long as they worked as TO and trainee, but if Nyla had been able to deduce that she was angry from a look and a one-sentence reply, there was no doubt that other interactions received the same level of scrutiny. They were surrounded by cops and detectives; people trained to sniff out deception. That they'd gotten this far without reprisal might not mean that things appeared as innocent as they hoped. It could just mean that everyone was willing to turn a blind eye for Tim's sake, and that? Lucy couldn't let that stand.

She waited in her car even as his truck pulled into the drive, and he lingered in the driver's seat for a minute or two before getting out and walking to her door.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked after she got out. She paused long enough that he began to look wounded. "Lucy. You can come in."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Mad at you?"

"After the way I left last night… I wouldn't blame you for being mad at me."

"Lucy, no. God. I'm not mad," he said, but admitted, "I was hurt."

"I know." She met his eyes shyly. "So was I."

He looked at her a moment longer before offering a third time. "Please come in."

This time she agreed and followed him inside, but as they neared the front door, Lucy asked, "Can we sit in the hammock?"

He opened the door and let her in; she led the way, first through the house, to the backyard, and to the hammock. She kicked off her shoes and sat, staying upright with her bare feet on the ground, pressing into the earth to hold the seat steady as Tim climbed in beside her. Their legs pressed together as they sat, swaying gently. Several minutes of companionable silence passed before Lucy spoke.

"I think this is my favorite place in the whole world," she mused quietly.

"The hammock?"

"That, too." She nodded towards his house. "I love your home." Another pause, then Lucy asked, "Is it hard for you to train me?"

"What made you think of that?"

Casting him a sidelong glance, she revealed, "Harper thinks that it's probably hard for you to train your soulmate."

"Harper knows nothing," he said automatically, dismissively, but not a full minute passed before he conceded in a mumble, "but she isn't wrong."

"She isn't?"

"It was easier at the beginning."

"Right. When you hated me?" Lucy teased, and he rolled his eyes.

"I never hated you," he retorted, then added drily, "I thought you were a little annoying, and a know-it-all, and holy shit you were the shortest recruit I've ever had, but I never hated you."

"Oh, how sweet. Tim Bradford, the pinnacle of romance over here," she chortled, enjoying how his laugh mixed with hers. She was glad to hear him sound so happy, to see him smile. It made what came next easier. "You know you're it for me, right?"

"I know."

"Do you? There's never going to be anyone else for me, Tim. It's you and no one else." A deep breath in, and her exhale came out in a whisper. "You were right to turn me down last night."

She felt him tense beside her, and within seconds he attempted to explain. "I wasn't saying never—"

"—I know."

"—but right now—"

"Tim," she reached for his hand and squeezed it lightly; he fell silent. "I know."

"I don't regret kissing you. I regret what it's done. I," he hesitated in the middle of his admission, stopping to breathe deeply before saying, "I feel like I messed everything up."

"You didn't though," she countered. "It was already messed up. There are very few boundaries we haven't barreled right over, together or not. Kissing me made no difference, Tim," Lucy said, "but it can't be like this anymore. I know you turned me down because you want to protect my career, and you're right. If IA decided to look at us more closely, we're not coming out of this clean. Until I'm through my training, or until you make sergeant somewhere, we need to take some space."

Her suggestion seemed to make him anxious, but he did not outright decline. Rather, he responded, "I don't want to do that."

"I know. I don't either, but we need to, okay?" She heaved a deep sigh as her stare fell to the ground, watching their feet push off from the dirt to force the swing into its rhythm. "We've both worked too hard to get me over the finish line. We can't risk it." Her voice wavered only slightly as she outlined the remainder of her thoughts. "Your exam is in a few days. I can help you study, but after that, I think we should step back. No going out for drinks, no dinners, no movies. If I need a ride for any reason, I'll ask Jackson or Nolan. And no hanging out alone, because…" she blushed the second she thought of his hands grabbing the back of her thighs, remembering his whiskey-laced mouth, "well, maybe it's just me, but the temptation will be too much. Now that I've… that we've…"

"I know," he said, saving her the embarrassment of elaborating. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she replied with a crooked grin. "We have all the parts that matter."

"And the rest?"

"And… the rest can wait." Then, allowing herself one more crossed line for just tonight, Lucy leaned her head against his shoulder. "We have all the time in the world, right?"

Chapter 30: 082819

Notes:

"Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes
I'm not here, I'm not here
This isn't happening."
- "How To Disappear Completely", Radiohead

Chapter Text

Taking space was easier said than done. Lucy still rode with Tim every day, and parting at the end of each shift was always a little awkward and filled with palpable longing. Too much had occurred to neatly put the lid back on, and there were certain things she just couldn't give up, regardless of their new attempts at respectful distance. She still kept his picture on her night stand and she always wore the moonstone ring he'd gifted her, but as she was no longer (for now) giving Tim the priority of her evenings, she did her best to fill her time with friends. Having Jackson as a roommate was equivalent to a built-in hang. She also made a point to get around Nolan, himself newly single after a heartbreaking end to his relationship with Jessica. Lucy had been anxious to hear about the soulmate he'd recently reconnected with, but was somewhat disappointed on that front. So far, they'd kept things strictly platonic; she wondered how long that would last. All told, the three of them quickly fell into the pattern of their early academy hangs. It was a nice and comfortable place to return to, and though it did not make her miss Tim less, it made missing him easier, almost bearable.

Almost.

As great as the guys were, when she was feeling particularly low, there was nothing quite like the company of a girl friend; that's where Rachel came in. She did not ask why Lucy was suddenly more keen to get together, just happily accepted every invitation for drinks or for movie nights, and made such an effort that she couldn't help but wonder whether Tim hadn't secretly informed her friend she might be in need of a little more support in the coming weeks. On the night that Rachel came over for a marathon of Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan movies, she made a show of presenting Lucy with left wrist, revealing a newly-installed timer of her own.

"Rach!" Lucy gasped as she grabbed her arm; the numbers showed forty-nine days, four hours, and three minutes. "When? But you… I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed as she moved to hug her.

"It's all your fault, you know," Rachel replied as she squeezed her tight. "Yours and Tim's."

Lucy chuckled as she let her into the apartment, following behind as she helped herself to one of the stools at the kitchen bar. "I think I deserve a little more credit than Tim here, babe."

"Don't be so sure," she contradicted, then giggled to herself. "You weren't there when we were planning your birthday party. You don't see how he looks at you, Lucy. Okay, you see it, but you don'tseeit. That besotted idiot looks at you like the world spins on your finger."

Lucy couldn't help her smile as she remembered what Tim had admitted to her months ago.You should know I always see you.Leave it to Rachel to pick up on that, and to describe it so sweetly.

"But it's not just how he looks at you," she continued. "It's how he treats you. Planning your party, it was really obvious how much he cares about you. I know it hasn't gone how you thought it would but, you guys are sort of everything I want to have. Well, maybe noteverything," Rachel amended with a snort. "He's that attractive and you haven't slept with him? You could qualify for sainthood with that restraint."

Lucy did not disagree, but she turned away to the cabinet before she could see her blush. She made no mention of their heated kiss during the missile alert, busying herself with pouring two glasses of red wine before directing the conversation down a safer thread. Jackson joined towards the end of the first movie, and they made it midway through You've Got Mail before calling it quits. She tried not to make a habit of late nights, but with Tim taking the sergeant's exam the following morning, she anticipated a dull day at reception. Before she left for work, she sent him a message; the first from her in a few days.

Good luck today.

A minute later, he replied.Thank you. Be safe out there.

She smirked before typing back.Because the front desk is such a danger zone, right? If I'm not careful, I could sprain my pinky on a pen chain.

Hilarious, he replied.

She typedI miss you, but her thumb hesitated over the send button. What would that achieve? Surely he knew she missed him, and although he'd never said so, she felt it in his stare at the end of every shift.I miss youwas true, but it didn't need to be said, she decided as she deleted the message. Had she sent it, he probably would have teased her (nicely, not cruelly) and reminded her they still rode together every day. It was not the same, though. Riding side by side could not begin to compare to cozy evenings in his backyard, to pad thai on his living room floor; to the closeness they'd slowly built since February. Despite being temporary, the hole his absence left in her life felt massive, and she began to keep a mental tally of every day that passed while remarking to herself on the irony of yet another countdown ruling her life.

The days passed in the lurch and lull of work and free time; a consistent grind that, with her mind on the job and not much more, made the remaining weeks of August rush by. Tim and Jackson, who had helped a mother and her teenage son during the first week of the month, were due to receive a commendation from the mayor in recognition of their heroism. Lucy did not attend the ceremony. Angela went in her stead. She was at home when a dozen texts came in at once. All of the messages were from Angela, and in each were pictures of Tim and Jackson with the mayor, holding their plaques as they shook his hand. Jackson smiled in every photo. Tim did not, instead trying to look tough and stoic, but Lucy perceived a hint of a smirk towards the end of the photoset. One message had a video of him and Jackson standing side by side before they realized Lopez was recording. Towards the end, he broke, finally grinning as he asked her to stop.

Lucy selected her favorite -one of the last pictures where his facade was beginning to crack- and sent it to him, accompanied only by a yellow heart emoji. He responded by calling.

"You make that your home screen," he began, "and you're gonna run the academy obstacle course in a bomb disposal suit."

She chuckled once before replying, "An empty threat if I ever heard one, but if it makes you feel better, it's only my lock screen." Then she asked, "How do you plan to celebrate your commendation?"

"I'm not." When she asked why, he explained. "It's not about the plaques for me. It does look good to the brass if I want to make sergeant, though."

"Any word on your score?"

"Not yet." She heard him sigh a little, the breath distorting as it came through the phone speaker. "Shouldn't be long though."

It was hard for her to not feel hopeful, to put more stock in the sergeant's exam than it was maybe worth. A good score would open the door to promotion, and the better the score he got, the sooner that would happen, and if that happened soon… but Lucy stopped herself from following the thoughts any farther. It wouldn't do anyone any good to dwell on theifsand theone days.She wanted Tim to succeed for his own sake, not just because she missed him and wanted to pick up where they left off. When she spoke, she told him, "I should probably let you go. Jackson is getting home soon. We're supposed to go out with Nolan and Armstrong." A pause followed before she added, "You should go celebrate somehow, Tim. You deserve it."

"Yeah," he replied, but even as he said it, she knew he wouldn't. Visions of him on his couch playing Madden, nursing a beer all by his lonesome filled her mind. No matter how sad the image made her, there was very little she could do. Space had been her suggestion, after all, and despite the difficulty she maintained it was the right call to make. As they said goodbye, she made a mental note to celebrate his achievement with him later. Whenever that ended up being.

Lucy would've preferred to meet at their usual karaoke bar, but she had to admit that Los Torres was nicer and a good deal quieter. Perfect for a casual night out with friends, although Detective Armstrong was a fairly new acquaintance for her. Nick was a kind man, gentle and unassuming, but sometimes when he spoke there was a hint of sadness that she couldn't quite source. Midway through their first round of drinks, she caught a glimpse of his wrist, her eyes landing at once on his timer. The light glowed yellow, the dashes on the face visible as he reached for his beer. Her gaze lingered long enough that Nick caught it and explained with a mournful smile.

"Her name was Rebecca. Lost her about five years ago now," he said.

She was sorry for staring, and apologies came from the others as well; he waved them all off. "It's fine, really. We had a good life." Then he fell silent before draining a third of his beer in one gulp.

"How long were you together?" Lucy asked.

"Ten years. She kept me sane. Not sure what I did for her. Made her laugh, I guess?" When he snickered, it freed the rest of them to do the same, although their weak laughs did nothing to dispel the tension that settled over the table as he reminisced. "Certainly wasn't there for her the way I should have been." He looked at Lucy, pointedly. "That's the problem with this job. With success, you're gonna catch cases that consume your every waking thought."

"And civilians can't identify, I guess," she surmised.

He nodded. "Something like that, or worse. They resent you." He picked up his glass again, then grinned at Nolan and Jackson before teasing, "Of course, not that you have to worry about that. Bradford's a cops cop."

She turned to level her friends with a glare that was half-serious, half-playful. "So do you just tell everyone we hang out with that Tim's my soulmate, or…"

"Uh, in our defense," Jackson retorted, "it is literally the worst kept secret around the station."

"Hey, I'm not shaming," Nick added quickly. "It's a good thing. If you guys end up together, you'll never have to explain a hard day to him. You'll never have to apologize for caring more about the dead than the living. Now, I'm sure that figuring out Tim was your match was complicated-"

"- sick to death of that word," Jackson interrupted.

Simultaneously, Nolan chimed in, "You have no idea." Lucy shushed them both so he could finish.

"What I'm trying to say is, the person that matters most to you won't just be sympathetic. He'll get exactly what you're going through. You're lucky you'll have that, Lucy." Then, he nodded to Nolan with a chortle. "Not like John over there with Doctor Grace."

While Nolan playfully protested, Nick reached for the empty beer pitcher.

"Let me," Lucy volunteered, then grabbed the pitcher and went to the bar. She motioned to the bartender, who caught her eye but turned away to assist a different set of customers at the opposite end.

"Pace yourself," said a voice to her left. She turned slightly to see a man standing just a a few inches away. For a second she was startled, having neither heard nor sensed his approach, but she tried to keep her surprise away from her face. He was just waiting in line for a drink like her; being unaware of her surroundings was her own fault. "It's a marathon, not a sprint."

"Been waiting long?" she asked.

"Depends on your definition. It was August when I got here. What month is it now?"

Lucy laughed."I guess we could, I don't know… hop the counter?"

The man pretended to wince. "Not much of a hopper, but I'm pretty good with diversions. How do you feel about small fires?" Again, she chuckled politely, which he interpreted as an opening as he held out his hand towards her. "Caleb."

She hesitated for only a moment before shaking it awkwardly with her free one; the left. "Lucy." Once her hand was in his, he turned it over, glancing at her wrist.

"Take it you're out with your soulmate?" he said, his expression changing only slightly while still retaining its smile.

"Them?" She pointed toward her table with her thumb. "No. Those are just friends." Then, because he already had seen her zeroes, she revealed, "It's a little tricky with my soulmate at the moment."

"Mmm," Caleb hummed in agreement as he nodded with a knowing look. "Mine, too."

They made some more light conversation, Caleb driving most of it while Lucy paid polite attention. She tried once more to flag the bartender, but her focus shifted just in time to see a man swipe cash tips off the bar. He did the same as he passed a few tables, grabbing bills meant for the waitstaff and stuffing them into his pocket.

"Excuse me," she said to Caleb, then set the pitcher on the bar before she approached the thief from behind. Asking what he was doing made him run, but he wasn't expecting her to hold her own. She caught him by the arm and used the momentum of his own body to get him pinned and handcuffed. The commotion attracted the attention of every patron and employee, and within moments Jackson and Nolan were at her side assisting. She let them keep an eye on the guy as she returned to the bar, picked up her abandoned beer pitcher, and set it directly in front of the gawking bartender.

"Think I can get that refill now?" she asked smugly.

Not much surprised her on the job anymore. Ten months into her training, she was beginning to feel like she'd seen the full spectrum of human behavior, from the truly good to the truly depraved. Even so, she felt ill-prepared when Mid-Wilshire was chosen to guard a serial killer as she led the district attorney to the unrecovered bodies of some of her victims. Lucy remembered reading about Rosalind Dyer in college; her killing spree and the pathology of her mental illness were all anyone in her psych courses could talk about when the bodies were first found. Later, when Rosalind was arrested, the conversation shifted to, "how could a woman be so barbaric".

"I was on the scene when they found the fourth victim," Tim said as they walked through the bullpen after the briefing. "Should've listened when the detectives said 'don't look at the body'."

Just then, Lucy heard someone call her name from across the room. She turned to see Caleb -the man from the bar- jogging up to her.

"Who is that?" Tim asked, suspicious already.

"An acquaintance," she replied as he approached.

"Caleb," he said, "from the bar last night. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Beside her, she felt Tim tense; even in her periphery, she saw how he straightened, bringing himself to his full height as she asked, "What can I help you with?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of folded paper. "In all the excitement with your perp last night, I forgot to give you my number."

Tim intercepted the number, snatching it out of Caleb's hand before snapping, "We don't call them perps." He opened the note. "Caleb Wright?"

"That's me," Caleb chuckled awkwardly as Tim stared him down with a hardened gaze. "Um," he said to Lucy, "Call me, I guess, if you ever feel like waiting for a drink."

"Don't hold your breath," Tim mumbled, and Lucy shot him a dirty look.

"Thanks," she replied, then smiled before saying. "I'm sorry about him. It's a little crazy right now." Caleb made no mention of it, just nodded at her before saying goodbye. Lucy waited until he was gone to rip the paper out of Tim's hands. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?" he said, then scoffed seeing her dirty look. "Oh come on. It's not like you're going to actually call him."

She tucked the paper into her pocket. "Even if I wasn't, it doesn't give you a right to be a jerk to him."

"He tracked down where you work to give you his number. That doesn't strike you as creepy?"

Maybe a little, but she replied in his defense, "I thought he seemed nice. Overeager, perhaps, but nice."

His eyes narrowed, and she could see a response forming on his lips before he bit it back and said nothing else. After a minute, Tim stalked away. "Load up," he called over his shoulder. "The convoy leaves in ten."

Rosalind Dyer, with her icy gaze and golden-red hair, was as graceful and poised as she had been during the well-publicized trial. She walked with an elegance that looked all the more out of place in her bright orange prison jumpsuit. Her stare traveled over any who came within her field of vision, appraising them silently with a cat-like smile on her lips. Tim and Lucy brought up the rear of the convoy, and she was grateful for the space between them and the killer. As fascinating as Lucy found the psychology (well, biology, actually) of serial killers, she did not like being in such close proximity to one, any more than a mouse would like to be caged with a snake.

Thanks to the convoy (and the fact that she was handcuffed), the threat her presence itself posed was largely neutralized. Danger came by way of the attention her commutation deal had drawn. The media circled their crew, anxious and almost blood-thirsty for sight, sound, or scoop. That was hard enough to manage, but chaos erupted when someone who had followed behind them shot at Rosalind from a distance. He missed, but the district attorney was wounded by shrapnel and a brief pursuit followed. Tim was the one who finally cornered the shooter; a middle-aged man who, when Lucy asked, revealed himself to be the husband of one of Rosalind's victims just as Tim snapped cuffs onto his wrists. They were excused to process him, and by the time they saw the man into a holding cell Sergeant Grey had reached out with more news. A second body had been found at the burial site Rosalind led them to, this one much newer, more recent. He needed them to follow up with with the city's medical examiner.

Tim turned to Lucy as they headed to the morgue. "Your first decomp, right?" he asked, then smirked. "Hope you had a light breakfast."

The medical examiner -Solomon, Tim called him- was waiting for them when they arrived. He greeted Tim by name, but only acknowledged Lucy with hello. There wasn't much to tell them yet, he said. No signs of strangulation, but the pattern of broken blood vessels on the face of the victim indicated she'd screamed for hours before succumbing. Her nails were torn, as if she'd tried to claw herself free from whatever confines had precipitated her passing. It was Tim who noticed the tattoo on the victims ribs, pointing to the black ink and asking, "What is that?"

Solomon looked closer. "A tattoo," he said after a moment, adding, "Seems pretty fresh. 'DOD22819'."

"Fresh?" Lucy asked. "You mean she was tattooed right before she died?"

He appeared a little unnerved by the suggestion, but still managed to hedge his reply. "I'd have to do a proper examination to be sure, but it looks like it."

"And the numbers?"

"It could be a date?" she thought aloud. "2, 28… February 28th, which would be six months tomorrow."

What Tim said next completed the theory. "And that makes 'D O D', day of death."

The second body changed everything. Since Rosalind's deal for life in prison hinged on her willingness to aid in the recovery of her victims, finding another body in the first grave upended the operation. The convoy immediately returned to the station. While keeping her in holding, she was interrogated; first by Detective Armstrong, then by Nolan. Through their combined efforts they managed to ascertain the location of her next burial site, and confirmed a second body would be found when searched. As with the first, the corpse recovered was tattooed. This time, DOD52819 was scrawled in crude script on the ribcage of the second victim. Another female, and the level of decomposition revealed more details than the first body, showing her to be in her late twenties. Strands of long brown hair still clung to her shriveled scalp. It was clear to all of them that a pattern to the killings had been established. Six months tomorrow. Three months tomorrow. Tomorrow. Where Rosalind saw a ritual, the rest saw a clock. They had less than twenty-four hours to rescue the next victim before it was too late.

The units reconvened for a second briefing, then dispersed to their various assignments, each pulling a separate thread in the hopes of turning up solid leads. Lucy had been ordered to toss Rosalind's cell with Tim and Detective Armstrong in a desperate hunt for any clues she would have unwittingly left behind. None turned up at first; she was far too smart to leave a trail, then Nick remembered that she was a reader, and off they went to the prison library to comb through every book she'd checked out in the last six months. Lucy was the one who located a piece of paper in one of the books, folded into a neat square before being tucked into the pages. To the untrained eye, it was nothing; a scrap paper used as a bookmark, but opening it revealed a pattern of letters she quickly recognized as a cipher.

It was easy enough to decode, just a simple substitution cipher, something she'd learned in a single course at the academy. With a pen from her pocket, she deciphered the code in the margins of a copy of "Wuthering Heights" before turning her discovery towards Tim and Nick.

"Bryan Coleman," she read. They'd found their first suspect.

The woman's name was Nora. Nora Valdez. Everyone had worked tirelessly to save her, each unit supplying their own full measure long after their shifts would have typically ended. Nolan and Harper had followed a lead to the abandoned zoo, and that's where they discovered Nora. She was rescued just in time, delirious with pain and dehydration, already tattooed with her day of death; the would-be killer escaped. For now, nothing more could be done. The units were dismissed, and as she and Tim trudged towards the locker room, Lucy yawned.

"If I can be wheels up in ten, I'll be in bed within the next hour," she said through a stretch. "What will you do?"

"I never sleep after intense cases like this."

"Really?"

"Yeah." A haunted look passed over his face, recalling some image that he did not share, but he shook it off quickly. "I'll have to go blow off steam somehow. Only way I'll have any peace."

Another few steps followed in silence before Lucy asked, "So you'll do what exactly? Go out for a drink?"

"Maybe. You should, too," he said. "Get Nolan or West to go out with you. Try to forget for a few hours."

She didn't want to forget. Not really. Forgetting what they'd seen today somehow felt disrespectful to the victims; to those not yet identified, and to Nora… but she trusted Tim, trusted the perspective over a decade on the job had given him, and answered his advice with a whispered, "Okay".

She didn't ask Nolan or Jackson to go with her, deciding in the shower that she'd only go out for a single drink; she just wasn't really in the mood for much more than that. Karaoke was no fun without friends, though, and as much as she liked their divey picks, she didn't feel entirely secure going to those alone. Los Torres had seemed safe enough when they went last night, so after she dressed, that's where she headed. The bartender recognized her when she walked in and was much more welcoming this time around, greeting her with a smile before taking her order. He'd just set a glass of white wine in front of her when the man from the night before slid into the seat beside her.

"Fancy meeting you here," Caleb said with a grin that showed too much teeth.

"Oh. Hey," she replied, forcing a smile.

"I know what you're thinking." Something in his expression did not sit quite right with her, but she was still trying to place it as he joked (because ithadto be a joke), "Yes, I am following you."

"Really?"

He chuckled, but didn't answer before he pointed to her drink. "Just wine tonight?"

"Yeah," she said, tilting the glass by its stem to swirl the liquid a little. "Long day. Probably can't handle something much harder than this." She took a sip, then set it down and said, "I've gotta run to the restroom. Can you watch my drink?" After he agreed, she scurried to the bathroom, pulling out her phone the second the door swung shut behind her.

That Caleb guy is at the same bar as me. Coincidence?she texted Tim.

His response came quickly.I told you he was creepy. Where are you? Want me to come scare him off again?

Los Torres. I still think he's probably harmless, but yeah, you might not have been wrong about creepy.

That's a weird way of saying I was right.

Let me know when you're done reveling in it.She snickered to herself picturing how Tim would take such a petty victory.

I don't need to revel. I'm usually right. Call me if you need me?

I think I'll be okay.He's seen me take down a "perp" remember? See you tomorrow. :)

Again… don't call them perps. See you tomorrow.

"Sorry," she began as she returned to the bar. "It was a weird day at work. I think I'm going to have to call it a night."

"But you haven't even finished your wine." Caleb moved the glass back in front of her. His persistence made her suspicious, and she felt her eyes narrow briefly before pasting on another fake smile.

"Guess I didn't," she replied brightly just as the bartender walked by. She practically lunged at him, tapping his arm with her fingertips as she asked to close out her tab. He insisted on comping her for the single glass of wine she'd ordered as gratitude for her intervention the night before. Lucy didn't make a habit of accepting freebies from civilians -a standard Tim had long ago drilled into her head- but she'd make the exception just this once if it got her out of the bar faster. Glancing briefly at Caleb, she told him, "It was good to see you," and turned to make her exit.

"Let me walk you out," he said as he pushed off the barstool.

"Oh, no, that's okay-"

"Come on." Lucy hesitantly relented as he accompanied her out of the bar. She was increasingly uncomfortable, but she also didn't want to be rude, and she was confident she could handle him herself if she needed to. They walked side by side with a foot of space between them; all the while, she kept her guard up, ready to reach for her off-duty weapon at the slightest indication of hostility from him.

"I'm sorry you had such a tough day today," he told her as they passed a few cars parked behind Los Torres. Her Datsun was still twenty feet or so ahead of them.

"Yeah, well. Nature of the job.'

Then, sounding more genuine than he had all night, he said, "It makes me almost feel bad for this."

It felt like a pinch; a tiny little piercing pain in her neck. The needle slid through the layers of her skin easily as she gasped. Lucy's struggle lasted for only a second before a foggy warmth filled her body, and she went slack. Her arms, legs, and even her mouth were uncooperative as she tried to fight back. Caleb kept her from falling, but that was not from kindness; he pressed his hand over her lips to muffle her weakening cries.

That smile -that hideous, sharp, cat-like smile- was the last thing she saw before she fell unconscious.

It was the sound that woke her. Not the pain, although that seeped in later, stabbing through the drugged haze in muted waves before it began to throb, seemingly radiating from the center of her body. Her head felt heavy, as if weighed down by invisible stones, and a migraine throbbed at the base of her skull. Every sensation soon faded to the background, dulled by the hot sawing of a tattoo gun as it dragged over the thin skin that covered her ribcage.

Opening her eyes took great effort, but she eventually willed her lids apart, wincing in the sudden brightness. It was morning; it had been night when they left the bar, which meant she'd been unconscious for eight hours at least. Possibly -probably- more time had passed. She lay on top of a rectangular wooden table, stretched out and bound by her wrists and her ankles. Her mind told her hands to flex, ordered her legs to strain against the bindings, but her body did not listen, still under the influence of whatever substance had been in Caleb's needle.

Now she saw him clearly. Now, she understood. The edges to his expression were no longer guarded or concealed, but worn proudly. His eyes were icy, stare vacant and unmoved, almost unimpressed by the violence his own hands had wrought. The tenderness in his tone was long gone; anything like concern he showed had evidently been an act, and she only realized it now when it was too late. There would be no more pretending.

He sat beside her, his true self, unhinged and evil.

"Eight. Twenty-nine. Nineteen." He was calm as he spoke, chilling and self-satisfied he looked into her eyes. "Do you know what that is?"

She did.

"Tell me."

She turned her gaze to the ceiling, refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing fear in her face; it was the single act of defiance she could manage in her current state.

"Tell me, Lucy," he said again.

"My day of death."

Chapter 31: 082919DOD

Notes:

"We live and we die
Like fireworks.
Our legacies hide
In the embers."

- "In The Embers", Sleeping At last

Chapter Text

Whether she passed out or whether he'd drugged her again, Lucy could not be sure. All she knew was she jolted awake an uncertain amount of time later to find herself halfway across the room, and in a new position. No longer was she stretched out across a narrow table. Instead, she'd been restrained in a wooden chair. Her ankles were bound, duct taped to the polished legs. So were her wrists; her arms had been positioned at an awkward angle with her palms facing up. The silver tape concealed the entirety of her right wrist, but only part of the left. Caleb had left her timer unobstructed for a reason she did not yet know.

She stole a quick, quiet glance around the room, mindful to keep her head still and her breathing steady, ever careful to keep her movements subtle and silent in order to avoid alerting him. Doing so allowed her the chance to assess her location before he knew she was awake. He'd tattooed her beside the window; at some point after, he'd moved her to the chair, where she now sat situated between the dining room and what seemed to be the den. Tall bookshelves had been built into the wall. The shelves were mostly empty except for a few vases and some old dishes that looked antique. She could see a thin layer of dust that formed on them. That told her the house was not in frequent use, perhaps abandoned, which kept with his previous MO of using vacant properties. Harsh sunlight streamed through the window to her right, filtering through the slats of wooden blinds. She could not see outside from where she sat, but her guess at the time was early afternoon. It had been morning when she'd woken up on the table. Even more time had passed unaccounted for. Despite having no clue what occurred during the gaps between consciousness, there were three things that she came to figure were true.

Number one: Caleb would not get away with this. Small consolation, that, but still. Kidnapping a police officer? Who would ever be that reckless? Already he'd made crucial errors. He'd come to the station. He'd walked through the bullpen and made no effort to conceal himself; he would be on the sign-in sheet, and lifting his image from the security cameras would give them all the necessary identifying details. If for some reason that was not enough, Tim had met him and seen him up close. He could easily pick him out of a lineup or describe him to a sketch artist. Texting Tim the night before could become the thing that saved her. Mentioning him by name just before going missing was sure to make him suspect number one.

Number two: her odds of survival were low. Maybe not zero, but still slim by all accounts. Despite considering herself an optimist, Lucy was also practical. It wasn't that she didn't have faith in her wits, her strength, and her ability to survive; she was smart and she could hold her own when she needed to, but Caleb was not the average criminal. He had done this before at least three times and succeeded twice (that they knew of). Thanks to the drugs still working their way out of her system, she was in no condition to fight. As the injections wore off, she felt every twinge in her fatigued muscles; no longer could she ignore the raw pain of the tattoo on her ribs, and it made deep breaths difficult. She was also dreadfully thirsty. It felt like her lips could crack from the dryness.

Number three (and this she repeated to herself, clinging to it like hope personified): Tim was looking for her. In that, she had all confidence.

Jackson was an early riser. He would have figured out she didn't come home the night before shortly after waking, and if she knew her roommate at all the first person he'd call would be Tim. Her heart lurched in her chest imagining his panic setting in, an ache so overwhelming she nearly groaned. The horror he must have felt when he realized she'd been taken was almost beyond fathoming. He'd probably blame himself; he was always taking on more blame than he deserved. She was already anxious to absolve him.

She just had to make it out alive first.

He would've sprung into action immediately, lighting up the chain of command with the news that she was missing. The search for her would be in full force by now. Yes, the chances of her surviving were small, but they were improved by this; by the man she trusted to pursue her. He would do his part to rescue her, but she was not a passive victim here. She had a part to play in her rescue, the same as the rest; the same as Tim.

She went back to listening and to looking, absorbing all the surreptitious details about her surroundings that she could before Caleb decided to come check on her. There were no sounds from outside, and very little in the house. Scuffling somewhere behind her, theslide-slapof feet shuffling over hardwood flooring. Metal scratching ceramic. This hiss of steam that she recognized as the sound of a hot pan landing in water. More footsteps.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" he said cheerily as he entered the room carrying a plate of eggs and toast. He stabbed at the eggs with his fork before placing a heaping portion into his mouth, grinning down at her as he spoke through a full mouth. "I'd offer you some, but all the screaming tends to make you ladies hurl."

She wouldn't have accepted it even if he offered, but asked hoarsely, "Can I at least have some water?"

Caleb made a twisted show of sympathy as he replied, "Oh, of course you can. I'm not a monster." A half-empty plastic bottle of water was on the table where he had tattooed her. He grabbed it, removed the cap, and held it to her lips. She managed only a small sip before he pulled it away with a chuckle. "Don't be greedy, sweetie."

Affections werewrongcoming from his lips. Spoken through a sneer, "sweetie" sounded hateful. "You followed me, didn't you?" Her voice came out gravelly; that single sip of water had done nothing to quench her thirst. "Was it always the plan to make me the victim?"

"Oh, no you weren't the target. You're a coincidence. No," he pulled up the only remaining chair at the table and sat in front of her as he continued to eat his meal. He chatted easily, lightly, as if they were two friends out for brunch instead of a kidnapper/killer and his would-be victim. "I was there scoping out Armstrong. Rosalind is obsessed with him. Personally, I don't get it but," the way the smile spread over his face slowly was unsettling, "what my lady wants, my lady gets."

"And your lady is Rosalind? She's the soulmate you talked about?"

"Something like that. Not that we have timers to tell us so, but when you are an exceptional creature like us, you have different ways of finding each other." He set his plate on the ground beside his feet, then reached forward and ran his thumb over her left wrist. "Not like you and your 'Whomever', right Lucy? How long ago did you hit zero?" She didn't answer, but her silence did not deter him. "You know, I was a little curious who your soulmate could be. I assumed it was one of the Boy Scouts at your table. Obviously not Armstrong; rest in peace Rebecca and all that, but it wasn't any of them. You told me as much." He yanked her arm closer. Her skin strained against the duct tape, pulled taut by the binding. "It's Officer Handsome, isn't it? That overprotective pretty-boy who felt threatened by a single phone number?" Again, she gave him no answer, but he took her silence as confirmation.

"I wonder what you meant when you called it 'tricky' with your soulmate," he continued, and Lucy almost marveled at how blithe he managed to act while secretly harboring and acting on the most evil of human natures. "Could it be he doesn't want you? I mean, why else would you have been out with a group of guys, and none of them were the 'one'? Why else would you have been at that bar alone last night?" Once more, he ran his thumb over her timer before circling the edge with his nail. "I could remove it, you know. I've done it before. Flathead screwdriver, a few wiggles, and a little elbow grease. Yikes!" Even his laughter sounded off, sharp and shrill with mockery. "It's messy work, but if you asked me nicely…"

She flinched away as his fingernails dug just beneath the plastic, pulling slightly. The timer wouldn't come off by his grip alone, but even the thought was painful. Her discomfort made him grin; he was satisfied to finally have achieved some reaction from her, even muted. "I see." He released her wrist. "You're right, Lucy. It'll be so much better if he knows the second you're dead. Man, what I wouldn't give to see the look on Handsome's face the moment his timer turns to dashes. That sounds delightful. Sweet little bonus you're giving me, Lucy. Too kind of you. Really." Then he clapped his hands against his knees and stood. "Well, I should get to it. Lots to do before you go in the barrel."

"The barrel?"

"Oh yeah. I was gonna put Nora in there, but, well… you know how that got screwed up." He patted her cheek tenderly, and nausea from his touch made her empty stomach roil. "Don't worry sweetie. No mistakes this time."

"Why the tattoos?" she hurried to ask before he could walk away. Every second that she stalled him could be the difference between life and death, and so she tried to appeal to his narcissism without arousing suspicion by allowing him the chance to explain his own cleverness. "Is it so you can feel like you have more control? Deciding when we die and putting it into our skin?"

"Aw, honey." That particular endearment made her grimace; like sweetie, it was wrong coming out of his mouth, and he didn't speak it so much as it slithered out from between his teeth. "That's not for me. It's for you. See, even now, tied to a chair with no way out, you still don't think you're dying today, do you? Lucy, Lucy, Lucy…" He crouched in front of her before gripping her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Your belief that any second now your cop boyfriend is coming to save you only adds to my pleasure. I am going to enjoy this one. More than I thought I would."

The moment his back was turned, she got to work, wriggling with all her strength to get free of the tape. He'd bound her to a chair that was rickety and old. If she yanked too much it creaked, so she had to struggle just enough to make progress, but not enough to make noise while still straining to hear Caleb as he walked around, preparing… what? She didn't know, and she was determined to not find out.

Finally, the left arm of the chair started to give purchase, and with a few more jerks her hand was free. The arm of the chair broke off with a snap. She wasted no timing in tearing off the tape on her right arm and legs before shooting to her feet. Her hopes of running were momentarily thrown when she felt faint the second she stood up. The drugs, the hunger, and the dehydration all made the world rock underneath her. She got her bearings just as Caleb reentered the room. As he rounded the corner, Lucy launched her fist towards his face with all her might; the blow missed its target (his jaw), colliding instead with his temple in a loud crack. Her knuckles split from the force, but she ignored the pain as she raced through the house to the door at the back of the kitchen that opened out onto the wrap-around porch of a picturesque farmhouse.

Her cries for help as she ran through the door were caught and carried away on the wind as it blew by gently. She was met by the sound of silence and a view that would have been breathtaking under any other circumstance. To her left, to her right, and straight in front of her was… nothing. Nothing but brown grass and trees and blue sky. Fresh horror washed over her, turning her whole body cold. He'd been keeping her in a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles and miles of open, undeveloped land. She'd been mistaken in thinking Caleb had been holding her somewhere in LA and felt new dread as she surveyed her surroundings. The other two bodies were buried in the city. There was no way a search grid would bring them here, wherever "here" was.

Lucy had no bearings and no context for where she was, but with only a few seconds to choose which way to go, she had to move. It was possible none of the paths would lead her to help or safety. The fringes of the land looked desertlike, and she was still hazy from the drugs he'd given her; thirsty, hungry. She would not be able to make it far, but she knew she had to try. Heading out into the unfamiliar countryside could be her death. Staying put, she would assure it. She chose to head left at a slow run, but only made it a few steps before her feet were swept out from underneath her by a tripwire. The force of the fall twisted her right ankle as she landed on her hands and knees with a thud.

Fuck.

Caleb had found her by the time she stood again. He stalked toward her slowly, calmly, unruffled by her attempt to escape. At least she'd gotten one good hit in, she thought to herself; her punch had caused a split to the skin above his eyebrow, and she prepared herself to do worse if that's what it took. As she lunged at him, he sprayed her in the face with mace. Lucy shielded her eyes too late as she yelped, trying in vain to block the aerosol from obstructing her vision. She clenched her fists and swung blindly, praying to make contact with every desperate strike; her last ditch effort at freedom. The hits whizzed through the air, and the third connected with its target in a sickening crunch. She heard him grunt as the blow landed, and the momentum of the punch threw her off-balance, making her pitch forward. She leaned into it, hoping to catch and knock him off his feet, but instead met his knee with her abdomen; the point of his joint landed right below her ribcage, square in her diaphragm. The air left her lungs in a painful rush before he roughly shoved her away. She landed in the gravel driveway. The sharpest stones pierced her palms as she scrambled backwards, away from Caleb, looking up at him through bleary eyes as he continued to approach.

The last thing she remembered was his boot as it rose towards her head, and when she came to however many minutes later, she learned she had been bound once again.

He did zip ties this time. They circled through her belt loops, pulled tight enough it rubbed the skin of her wrists red and raw. The moment he noticed her eyes were open, Caleb hauled her to her feet and coaxed her down the lane with a blade to her back. Her right foot would only let her walk so quickly; she'd been injured by the wire and the limp hampered her movements. It made the hike slow, and since she could no longer run, making the journey last longer was her final attempt to buy more time.

It was not enough for Caleb to keep a knife against her ribs. He also held her by the hair, gripping a fistful of strands as a way to steer her in the right direction. It was obvious he took great pleasure at yanking whenever he thought she was going to run, and sometimes just for the hell of it. After one particularly rough pull, the blade scratched the skin beneath her rib cage.

"If I get that away from you," she said through clenched teeth, "it's going in your brain."

"You still think there's an escape?" he snickered, "Even though the evidence is literally tattooed on your side?"

"I know they're looking for me."

"Sweetie, that's not the revelation you think it is," he hissed as his grip on her hair tightened, "I'm counting onallof them to look for you, Lucy." Before that moment, it had not occurred to her that this was part of a plan; that she wasn't just sating his bloodlust, but serving a purpose in a larger scheme. "You're surprised. You shouldn't be. I told you what my lady wants, my lady gets."

"You're going after Nick Armstrong," she realized in a whisper. "Then why did you take me?"

"Well, we both have our fetishes," he replied as they crested a hill and a clearing came into view. There was a barrel already prepared; beside it, a shallow grave had been dug. Her steps stuttered and the knife pricked at her ribs, prodding. "Get in," he said, nudging her forward with the blade.

"I'm not getting in there," she said, leaning away from the sharp edge. It followed her movement, insistent against her back.

"You know, they all say that, and yet they all get in. Do you know why? Because inside that barrel, there's still hope. There's still life. In that barrel, there's a chance for dear Officer Handsome to come to your rescue. Out here…" He pushed her away with a shove. As she fell, he pocketed the knife and pulled a gun from where he'd tucked it against the small of his back. He cocked the pistol before aiming it at her head. "Well, out here, you'll be lucky if he finds your body."

The only resource she had in her rescue was time, and hers was running out. She knew Caleb would not hesitate to pull the trigger if she pushed back much more. Her death was minutes, maybe seconds away if she stayed outside the barrel. In it, she'd have more. Perhaps it would be enough for them to find her.

Perhaps not; but there was no other choice.

His gun remained trained on her back as Lucy reached out for the barrel, gripping the metal edge as she made to heave herself inside. There was a tiny, almost imperceptible clanking sound as the band of her moonstone ring brushed the lip of the container. She was loath to part with the ring, but hastily removed and chucked it a few feet away from the pit. It landed near some tall, dry grass, a lone breadcrumb for her friends to follow. Hopefully, someone would find it and with any luck they'd recognize it as hers.

Caleb smiled cruelly as he bent over the barrel. "Any last words?"

"Yeah." Lucy looked up at him with a defiant glare. "If he doesn't find me, hewillfind you," she said coldly. "You'd better pray you're already dead when he does."

Her captor had not seemed bothered by her threat, laughing at her as he brought the lid down. Only then, away from his hungry gaze, did she let herself feel the full weight of her panic; the terror, the fear. She'd pulled against the zip ties, tearing her belt loops in the process, and once her hands were mobile she muffled her sobs with the palms. Her shoulders banged against the metal sides as the container was rolled into the pit. Then came a rhythmic scratching and scraping, the sound of earth being moved over her grave. The noise had gradually become more and more distant. Within a minute or two, the sound ceased. She had not yelled for help then, and she did not do so now when an hour or more had passed. Screaming would have wasted oxygen, and she had precious little of that left.

It was dark inside the barrel, pitch-black but for the green glow of her timer. As she had the night at the quarantine house, she regarded it as a beacon. As hope.

But hope was growing dim. Hope was fading with every inhale, every exhale.

Tim would not stop until he found her. She was certain of little else, but that she knew for sure. He would not rest until she was safely in his arms, alive or otherwise.

And "otherwise" was looking more and more likely.

The air was getting thinner. Breathing, already difficult from her injuries, burned. When her vision blurred enough that she could no longer make out the zeroes on her timer, seeing only the green light, Lucy closed her eyes and imagined herself somewhere different. Somewhere better.

Tim's house. Of course she pictured Tim's house. Hadn't she told him it was her favorite place in the world? It had been the truth then and remained true now as her mind shrank away from grim reality. She traced a mental path through it. The living room, the dining room, and out to the patio. She envisioned a warm night. The lights were on, the sun had set; a smattering of stars twinkled in the dark purple sky that cloaked Los Angeles. There was the sweet, earthy smell of the trees above her as she lay in the hammock.

In the barrel, she gently swayed herself from left to right, simulating the rocking motion. He'd played Ella for her the night before her exam. She'd hummed along, and now she sang it to herself.

"Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper I love you." Side to side. Side to side. "Birds singing in a sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me."

Her last minutes were spent wishing him into being, calling his face to mind with a hazy, dreamlike clarity.

It's you, she said to the image of him she conjured. Those were the words she'd wanted to say when they first met. It had been the wrong time; for the words. For them.

The right time was supposed to be coming. They'd gotten so close.

Deep breaths did not extinguish the flames that frenzied inside her ribs.

Sleeping while I do all the work?He'd teased her like that months ago. In her mind, he joked just so again, and Lucy smiled weakly to herself.

… Every feature of his face. His lips and his eyes, each line around his mouth, the way he set his jaw firmly when he wanted to conceal a smile…

I don't think any man could forget you once he's loved you, Lucy.

She didn't want him to forget, but he deserved to have an after. Someone else to share his heart with, to give his love to, if that's what he wanted. Too much goodness in him to keep it to himself.

He would never stop looking. He would never give up.

"Say nighty-night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. When I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me."

Another cough. Cough. Deep breath. Cough. Her throat felt like she'd swallowed shards of shattered glass.

Who would tell her parents? Would they turn to Tim in their mourning, the three of them finding unity in her death? She hoped so.

"Stars fading but I linger on dear, still craving your kiss."

Tim's hands on her waist, his mouth on her mouth. A lifetime of it would not have felt like enough.

Less air now, and she was dizzy. Sleepy, almost. She leaned against the barrel; the cool metal against her forehead was, if not comfortable, at least comforting.

Nolan and Jackson would not let Tim shoulder the burden of grief alone. Neither would Angela. Her death would break him. He would feel lost, but she had peace knowing he would be loved beyond her life. She trusted they would build him back up. They would restore him, piece by piece.

They would honor her memory by loving him through it.

"I'm longing to linger 'til dawn, dear, just saying this…"

It could've been anyone, but it was you.

So much time they'd wasted; so much that they had lost.

"Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you, sweet dreams to leave all worries behind you… but in your dreams whatever they be…"

Her first love. Her last, her only. He was all of it. He was everything.

No matter what they'd missed, she had no regrets. Lucky Lucy, Rachel had called her, and she was; she really was.

"I'm tired, honey,"she whispered to the image in her mind. "I'm so tired."

Side to side.

Side to side.

Swaying in the hammock as one by one, the stars went out above her.

A kiss goodbye, lips pressing to her timer.

I'm in this till the dashes, too.

"… Dream a little dream of me."

She was nothing.

Weightless.

Empty as the taste of salt trickled into her mouth.

No.

It wasn't salt.

The darkness vanished. There was light, and light, and yet more light. It was everywhere. Above her, around her. Blanketing. Enveloping. She felt a searing, heavy pain as her lungs gulped in the pure, fresh air.

And then she fell to earth.

Lucy's eyes flew open as the force of her gasp lifted her shoulders off the ground. The light remained, bright, brilliant...

Dull when compared to the sight of Tim above her.

His eyes were gleaming. Several tears had already coursed down his cheeks; they ran in rivulets across the creases formed by years of smiling and frowning and worry. His face was wet with them. So was hers. They'd landed on her cheeks, her hair, and her mouth.

"Lucy." He breathed her name with the reverence of a prayer.

She trembled as she turned and clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform. His arms surrounded her, holding her close. Holding her tight. "It's you," she sobbed against his chest, pressing her lips to his heartbeat in between bouts of weeping. "You came. It's you. It's you.

"I knew you would find me."

Chapter 32: Good Trouble

Notes:

"I surrender
This is the moment I surrender
Let it out, then let it in
I surrender"
- "Surrender", Walk The Moon

Chapter Text

Who knew how long they stayed there in the dust, or how long they clung to one another beside her upturned grave? Certainly not Lucy. Time and the passage of it was low on her list of priorities in the moments immediately following her rescue. What was important washere, she thought. What mattered was the safe circle of Tim's embrace, his body solid beneath her as he cradled her to his chest. What mattered was the sound of his heartbeat steady in her ears as she pressed herself closer to his body, drawing comfort from him even as her tears devolved into hysteria. She overheard but did not see Sergeant Grey usher the rest of the team away, allowing them privacy as Tim tried to talk her through the panic. She was safe, he reminded her as her sobs became gasps and her vision tunneled, growing fuzzy and black around the edges. Fear made each of her limbs tremble as breathing once more became difficult, which only served to make the anxiety worsen. She was in the open air, her brain screamed at her lungs, but they refused to cooperate, burning just as they had in the barrel when oxygen grew scarce.

"Look at me, Lucy."

She did as he said, though forcing her eyes to focus required a good portion of her will. The vision she'd conjured to comfort herself had paled in comparison to the real thing. He looked golden and blue as her sight blurred, and the calloused pad of his thumb caught her tears as they rolled down her cheeks.

"Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of light on his left wrist. His watch was gone; his timer still glowed green.

"No dashes," she whispered as she reached up to weakly grip his forearm.

He shook his head and gave her a watery smile. "No dashes."

"I thought I died." A shudder passed through her as memories flashed through her mind unbidden; the lid coming down, the sound of the dirt being leveled on top of her. Caleb's sharp smile as he asked if she had any last words. "Where is he?"

"Dead." His tone was bitter as he added, "Harper shot him. Took the bullet straight through the heart."

Was it justice? No; not really. Justice would have seen Caleb arrested. Justice would have had him on trial, convicted, and sentenced for his crimes. His death was not justice, but at least it was closure. An ending. He would never prey on women again; would not -could not- ever terrorize another human being as he had Lucy, or Nora Valdez, or the victims they'd not yet named.

She responded to the news with a single word.

"Good."

Whatever the reason -dehydration, oxygen deprivation, or just general weakness- when Lucy tried to stand after a few minutes, she wavered on her feet. New worry creased Tim's brow as he was able to see her injuries more clearly. The dizzy spell passed, but the first step she took on her twisted ankle turned her sharp breath into a hiss. He only shot one wordless look before he took her up into his arms a second time and carried her down the mountain. It had to be exhausting, but he did not complain once, nor did he falter or slow his pace. The strength of his hold changed only once. As the farmhouse came into view, Lucy turned her face towards his chest, and his grip tightened around her legs and back.

"I've got you," he whispered into her hair, his lips brushing against her temple as he spoke.

EMTs were waiting just past the house, and they rushed Tim the moment they came into view. A dozen hands reached for her, another pained breath rushing out of her lungs at the initial, clumsy attempts to extract her from his arms. He placed her on the gurney himself but kept his hand on her hip as the medics got to work. She measured the drive in inhales and exhales, in the ascending and descending tones that came from the ambulance's sirens; in the rhythmic strum of his fingertips Before long, they arrived at Shaw Memorial. Lucy glimpsed the pink and purple glow of the sunset for only a moment as the doors of the ambulance flew open. Night was approaching. Less than twenty-four hours had passed between her kidnapping and rescue, yet fatigue had settled into every one of her bones and her joints ached as if she'd aged years in a single day. Her view to the sky was blocked when a group of nurses and an ER doctor crowded the rear of the vehicle. Orders she did not understand were shouted between the staff as one of the paramedics debriefed the more senior physician while they marched with purpose beside the gurney. Tim, who had remained by her side, found himself crowded out by the host that tended to her now. He did his best to keep up, but fell a step or two behind. The gurney was rolled into an elevator, and it was then that the doctor turned to stop him. They needed to treat her, she explained firmly, then told him to go to the waiting room for now.

"No," Lucy said, her voice forming a frail plea that went unheard by everyone.

Everyone, except for him.

Tim held her gaze as they rolled her away. "I'm here, Lucy. I'll be right here."

There was a flurry of hands, tubes, and machinery as the on-duty doctor and nurses worked in tandem. They checked her vitals fist. Her blood-oxygen levels were still a little too low, so a cannula was fitted over her nostrils to give her additional oxygen. The response to her dehydration was to start her on an IV immediately. Once the doctor was certain that her larger, more pressing needs were managed, she began to address the other concerns. The scratches on Lucy's face were not very deep. Neither were the ones on her palms, but the dirt and dust had opened her up to infection, so the wounds were cleaned carefully and thoroughly before being bandaged. An x-ray determined that her right ankle was sprained but not broken. She most likely had a concussion. Her abdomen and two of her ribs were badly bruised, so in addition to IV fluids for rehydration, the doctor prescribed her a morphine drip.

The morphine turned out to be a mercy. Not only did it mute her pain, but it offered reprieve for her emotional state. The adrenaline from the rescue had long ago worn off, and the painkillers coupled the IV fluids coursing through her veins made her sleepy. Within minutes, she went without struggle into a sleep that was deep and dreamless. It was a blissful relief from the horror of the day before to have no dark thoughts or monstrous images to contend with in the unfamiliar hospital room. Later, she vaguely remembered being stirred as staff continued to check on her. They came by to poke or prod throughout the night and into the early morning. Twice she felt the gentle brush of a familiar touch caress her forehead, and several times she discerned the whispers of a nurse or the doctor as they spoke with Tim, but none of it was enough to pull her completely out of sleep.

When Lucy awoke the next morning she felt groggy, but relatively well-rested. The morphine drip had been paused sometime overnight, and its absence afforded her more mental clarity than she'd had throughout the first hours of her hospital stay. The cannula had also been removed, but the IV remained in her left arm and continued administering a slow stream of clear fluid. To her right was a tray, and on it sat a small bouquet of pink peonies. To her left sat Tim. His head was down, bent over a magazine as he sat in the rolling chair typically reserved for doctors during check-ups. He'd changed out of his uniform since she saw him last and now wore clean jeans and black henley t-shirt.

"Tim Bradford," she said with a smile; he looked up. "Did you sweep me off my feet out there?"

He chuckled only once before retorting, "That might be the worst joke you've ever told."

"Come on, it wasn't that bad."

"Yes, it was."

"Well, stick around. There's more where that came from and I live to disappoint."

His expression softened as he put the magazine on the floor and reached for her hand. He meant only to cover it, but Lucy turned it over so her palm faced up, sighing as she entwined their fingers and brought his hand to her mouth.

She kissed his knuckles softly before asking, "How did you find me?" As she spoke, she noticed a makeshift bed had been laid behind him on the bench beneath the window, made of spare hospital blankets and pillows. The sheets were smooth and undisturbed; the same was true of the pillows. Concerned, she asked, "Tim, have you been up all night?"

"I wanted to be here if you needed me," he admitted, then added glibly as a way to deflect, "And Smitty was the armed guard on duty last night, so I thought I should stay up just in case he started slacking."

"Armed guard?" Lucy braced herself as she asked, "Why?"

He hurried to soothe her fears. "It's just a precaution. Once we knew you were missing, it attracted a lot of attention, from the public and the media both."

That there was media attention didn't surprise her. Lucy grimaced as she sat up straighter, pain shooting through her sides. At her wince, Tim's grip on her hand tightened.

"Do I need to get the nurse?"

"No, I'm okay. Just sore," she replied. "Please tell me someone told my parents. They didn't find out from the news, right?"

"Grey called them into the station as soon as we realized what happened." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and showed her a text conversation that had been running between him and her mother since yesterday; for every one of his messages, her mother sent three. "They wanted to visit today, but I told them you needed to rest. Figured you'd want to see them on your terms."

She couldn't resist smirking then, even though it pulled unpleasantly at her the cracks in her lips. "You know me so well."

Visiting hours began at eight am. At eight-oh-one, her first visitor arrived; Smitty, of all people, stopping in to say hello before he handed the watch over to Mahoney for the next shift. It was an unexpectedly kind gesture from an officer most of them wrote off as kind of a joke, but he didn't leave without getting one smart-ass comment in first.

"You look like shit, Bradford," he teased Tim, then winked at Lucy before he turned to the door. "Did you sleep on a bench last night?"

From that point on, they scarcely had a moment to themselves. Soon after Smitty departed, Jackson and Nolan entered, beaming when they saw Lucy upright and awake. Nolan in particular looked a little glassy-eyed to see her sitting up and smiling as she greeted them, snickering to herself as they struggled with the weight of the gifts they brought. A gigantic pink teddy was placed on the foot of her bed by Nolan, and following behind him, Jackson walked forward with an armful of flowers. One arrangement was a bouquet of pink and orange roses that he'd bought. The other -a glass turquoise vase filled with more pink peonies- was from Rachel.

He also brought Lucy a gym bag stuffed with clean clothes and toiletries, and she was just as excited for that as she was for her presents. As they visited, she dug through the bag and pulled out her perfume, dabbing a little onto her wrists and behind her ears before breathing in the scent. She had not yet been given the opportunity to shower -she'd been on morphine too recently, the nurse said when she asked, and was considered a fall risk for another hour or two- but the perfume made her feel a little better about her current state; not clean or cured, but closer to herself. After Jackson and Nolan left, Sergeant Grey and Nick came to check on her. They were both on the clock, so their visit was short. Nyla came by in uniform, too, just to say hello. By the time she left, Talia arrived.

Seeing Bishop again was unexpected and a little awkward at first. With only a single, discerning look at both of them, she easily guessed at how things had changed since she switched departments, but she did not voice her conclusions aloud; instead, they played out on her face, manifesting in a gaze that narrowed at Tim before melting into a knowing smirk."I take it things are good, Bradford?" she asked him pointedly.

"Things are great, Bishop," he answered, but his reply sounded equally loaded, hinting at a hidden meaning that Lucy could not decipher without more context.

An expression of amusement passed over her face before her focus once more returned to Lucy. Unlike all the other visitors, she did not reference the abduction beyond saying "I'm glad you're safe". Instead, she wanted to hear how her training was coming along, and then wondered whether her father had recovered from his shoulder injury. Getting to talk about something other than her rescue was a welcome reprieve, and she reciprocated the questions by asking Talia how she was liking the work in ATF. It was not an ideal turn for her, but she'd made the most of a shitty circumstance and had done her best to adjust accordingly.

Talia stayed the longest out of all of her visitors, her visit lasting a little over an hour. After she'd left, Tim said, "Lopez texted. She and Wesley wanted to bring us lunch so you didn't have to suffer through hospital food. Is that okay?"

Lucy nodded just as the nurse returned to check her vitals. By now she was feeling quite a bit better, but she was still battling lingering fatigue, stiffness, and the occasional twinge of pain in her ribs and ankle. The last of the morphine had long since worked its way out of her system; in its stead, she was given a small paper cup that held two extra strength Tylenol. With the doctor's approval, the nurse removed the IV. Lucy was glad to see it go. So was Tim.

"I hate needles," he said as the door closed behind the nurse.

Lucy agreed. "I don't mind them usually, but I think I've had enough for a year or two." Then she scratched absently at the gauze-covered tattoo beneath her gown.

Tim noticed and asked, "Does it hurt?"

"No more than my other tattoos," she replied, "but I'm already planning on getting it removed. Ugh," she groaned as she fell back on her pillows with a sigh before pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers as she said with dread, "That's going to be so expensive." She'd once looked into laser removal following an ill-advised tattoo on her eighteenth birthday. Her best friend from high school had talked her into getting a butterfly between her shoulder blades; she was ashamed to admit she'd ever been so basic. Her parents werehorrifiedwhen she showed them the tattoo. She still remembered well her mother's shrill lecture, but even that didn't make her like it enough to keep it. Ten years ago, high quality laser removal was as (if not more) expensive than a tattoo. She'd opted for a cover up then, turning it into a pretty, round mandala.

As if he'd read her mind, Tim suggested, "You could always get it covered up."

The thought made her cringe. She loathed the idea of allowing Caleb's ink to live under her skin in perpetuity, but made a show of considering it for his sake, saying with some hesitation, "I guess that's possible."

"… You don't want to, do you?"

Of course he saw right through it; through her. Now, she answered honestly. "I don't love the idea of having it on me forever, even if it's covered up."

"Well, you don't have to decide now."

"You're right. I don't. I won't be able to do anything until it's fully healed." Then she noted, "That's a little fucked up, isn't it? I have to take care of it like any other tattoo so it doesn't make me sick. I'd burn it off now if I could." As she finished, she caught him grimacing. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah, right. What are you thinking?"

Tim took a deep breath before speaking. "You know, I've got scars from a dozen different fights. Bullet wounds, knife wounds. Then there's the scars you can't see. Isabel's addiction. My dad-"

"-Tim," she interrupted gently, "I know what you're trying to do."

"You do?"

"Yes, but it's not the same. I was kidnapped and tattooed by a maniac. He put my day of death into my skin."

"I know, honey." He reached for her hand again, covering it with his own before continuing. "I'm not trying to diminish that. I would never… but you lived.Youlived, not him. You won." He looked away, his gaze falling to the floor as he whispered, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, do what gives you peace without giving him power. You can see the tattoo as a failure, or you can see it as proof that you're a survivor."

He meant well. Lucy knew that for sure. She knew he was trying to encourage her, to embolden her, and she guessed his reasoning was an attempt to restore some of the strength and agency that had been stripped away by the monster that held her captive. Even if she didn't agree with where logic had led him, there was no doubt that he was motivated solely out of concern for well-being; concern, yes, and also love.

Survivor.It was a big word, that; not in size, but in meaning. It was a heavy word. It could not be used loosely, or lightly… but she was, wasn't she? Who, if not her, had earned the right to call themselves a survivor? She'd endured a nightmare and came out whole. That may have been true, but it wasn't the complete picture. She'd only survived because of the work of countless others. Her rescue had only been successful because of the actions of many. An entire police station had contributed to her recovery, and no one had done more than the man by her side.

"You'll tell me how you saved me, right?" she asked quietly. "Not today, but someday?"

Tim answered her question by reaching into the pocket on the back of his jeans. From it, he withdrew a piece of jewelry that she recognized at once; a silver band with an oval moonstone. She gasped seeing it again, having assumed it was lost; at the very least, she expected it to be logged into evidence. Without a word, he slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of her right hand. Then, as he ran his thumb across the gem, he whispered, "You saved yourself, okay? Me, I only found you… but you saved yourself."

As promised, Lopez and Wesley came by with lunch for both Tim and Lucy shortly after one pm, barging into the room with bags of burgers and french fries. Angela, who had been smiling when she entered, burst into tears the moment she laid eyes on Lucy. She was the only one of all the visitors she'd had that day to grab her quickly in a hug that was just a little too tight.

"Sorry, Chen," she said through a sniffle as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. "I'm just really glad you're okay."

They ate in a huddle around the bed. Shortly after Lucy polished off the last bite of her burger, the afternoon ER doctor arrived. When she entered, Wesley and Angela excused themselves, taking the trash from lunch with them as they went.

The doctor watched the pair go with a grin. "I heard you were pretty popular this morning," she said. "I've reviewed your chart. Off IV already. That's a good sign." With Lucy's permission, she examined her injuries; the cuts on her face and palms, the bruise near her hairline. "Any nausea or vomiting? Dizziness?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. It appears your concussion was minor, but I've scheduled a CT scan for later this afternoon, just to be sure." Then she asked to see the tattoo. With some maneuvering and strategic draping of her blanket -while Tim, ever the gentleman, averted his eyes- Lucy lifted the gown, showing the numbers. She'd been permitted to shower shortly before Angela and Wesley arrived with lunch and had done her best to clean it, but infection remained a real worry for her. As the doctor bent down to examine the wound, Lucy got a better look at her name tag. Grace Sawyer. Why was that familiar, she wondered, before remembering in a flash.

"You're Grace, aren't you?" she said, a little breathless from the realization. "You're John Nolan's Grace? I mean, his soulmate?"

Doctor Sawyer's lips quirked in a half-smile. "You know, I prefer to think of him as 'Grace's John Nolan', but you're right. John's my soulmate. It's a small world, isn't it? But then, you and Tim know something about that, don't you?" She shot a smirk back in his direction before saying to Lucy, "Sorry. You know how John gets. He overshares." The topic of soulmates was dropped as she gingerly prodded her ribs just a few inches above the tattoo. "Bruised, but not broken."

"Are you talking about me or my ribs," Lucy joked. From the corner of her vision, she caught Tim rolling his eyes.

"That's two," he said with a good-natured groan. "Two bad jokes in one day."

"I meant your ribs," Grace replied. Then, while chuckling, added, "but I guess it's true for you, too." She straightened. "The tattoo is a little inflamed, but nothing terrible. I'd like to put you on amoxicillin just to be safe, but between that and regular aftercare I don't see it causing you issues. For the ribs, you should try to sleep upright for at least a week. How's your pain level?"

"… Three," Lucy answered after pausing to think about it. "No, four. Four? It's worse when I stand."

Grace nodded. "The previous attending physician has it listed as a mild sprain. We can't send you home with crutches because of the bruises on your ribs, so I'm going to fit you with a walking cast just to be safe. You should only need to wear it for a little while, though. Seven days, tops." Then, as she glanced between the two of them with a smile, she said, "All told, I think you'll be on your way home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Tim sounded a little nervous as he asked, "Isn't that fast?"

Grace assured him it wasn't. "We'll still keep her tonight to monitor her, see if anything concerning crops up, but I don't expect that to happen." She looked back at Lucy. "I will want to see you in a week for a follow-up, but we can schedule that tomorrow when we prep you for discharge. Do you have any questions before I leave?"

She had none. After promising to check on her again in a few hours, Grace left. Once they were alone, Tim returned to his place beside Lucy's bed, and she again took hold of his hand.

"Well, one more night for me," she said as she interlaced their fingers. "What will you do?"

He stifled a yawn before replying, "I'm going to hope that Smitty isn't assigned the night watch again."

The second night in the hospital was worse than the first. Without the morphine to ease her into unconsciousness, her dreams were twisted, dark, and restless. She heard the buzz of the tattoo needle, the clank of the lid coming down on top of the barrel. Thescrape, scrape, scrapeof dirt being shoveled over her shallow grave. Nora Valdez was written on a white board in the briefing room. And all the screams Lucy held back in waking life, she felt come tearing out of her in nightmares where she saw her own body on a slab in the morgue. Her side was tattooed with the words"I win", and the moonstone ring shone silver and white on her decaying finger.

You still think there's an escape? Even though the evidence is literally tattooed on your side?

She awoke with a jolt. It took her a second to get her bearings, and to remember exactly where she was.

He was dead, she reminded herself silently, breathing deeply to slow her racing heart. Tim had told her so himself. Caleb was dead. Caleb was dead. She'd been saved. She had survived. Eventually, her heartbeat slowed, her breathing evened out, and the fear dissipated, retreating like a fog.You're in the hospital,she thought, attempting to ground and quiet herself by describing her surroundings to her own frazzled, anxious mind.

You're in a room that faces the city.

Your friends have visited.

Your favorite flowers are on the table.

The man you love hasn't left your side.

A glance in his direction confirmed that each of her mantras remained true. The lights were off, but the city just beyond her window pierced the darkness, the glimmer muted by the lowered drapes. She could smell the peonies on her bedside table. Beneath the window, the makeshift cot Tim ignored the night before saw use now, and he slept soundly as she rose to her feet. The splint on her sprained ankle made her steps uneven, but at least it protected her from further injury. There was considerably less pain when she took her first steps towards the window, but she had not counted on the bed creaking beneath her as she stood; the sound was enough to alert Tim of her movement, and he turned toward her as he stretched.

"What are you doing up?" he asked as sleepily as he began to sit up, rubbing his eye with his palms as he did. "You shouldn't be on your ankle."

"Grace said I was allowed to walk with the boot on."

"I don't think she meant in the middle of the night," he chided as she continued her slow shuffle towards the bench. Sitting up made room for her, but she coaxed him back down once she was seated, letting his head rest in her lap. She ran her fingers across his scalp, feeling his hair prick pleasantly against her skin as she traced through the short strands. "That feels nice," he said as his eyes slipped closed again. She stroked through his hair with her left hand. The right draped over his middle, and this one he covered with his left hand.

So much for our step back,she thought drily. Although they'd never said so aloud, at some point during the day, they'd stopped resisting the urge to touch one another. Brushes with death will do that to a person, she guessed, and it had started with her, hadn't it? Tim had only reached for her, but she was the one who interlaced their fingers. She was the one who kissed his hand. Now, she was caressing him as he lay in her lap languidly, like a lover might. Although his breath was steady, she felt the quickening pace of his pulse beneath the hand that hung over his chest. In the darkness, she could see his timer glowing green, and she was suddenly struck by a memory from months ago. They had been standing in his kitchen. In her hands, she held the picture from the night he realized his countdown had begun. She remembered what he'd said about the timers then.

A part of you has been there for me longer than anyone else, long before I ever even knew you. If that's not a soulmate, what is?

So much had changed since then; so much had happened. Near-misses and breakups and parties and kisses. At some point, their friendship had morphed into companionship. From there, it became love, and with that came desire that clouded all judgment; need that overwhelmed sense and senses. She blushed recalling the ferocity of his kisses during the missile alert, feeling her face turn warm and red as she imagined how his mouth had trailed down her jawline.

"You okay?" Tim asked, interrupting her thoughts.

"What?"

"Your breathing hitched a little. Are you in pain? Should I move?"

She giggled awkwardly as she shook her head, too bashful to reveal the turn her thoughts had taken. Instead, she said, "You know," as she took hold of his left wrist and tapped his timer with her thumb, "the timer was the only light I had in the barrel." She ran the pad of her finger over the acrylic slowly, rhythmically. "I knew you would find me. I knew you'd never stop looking."

"You're right," he replied. "I wouldn't have."

"So what happens tomorrow once I'm discharged?" she wondered as she continued to stroke through his hair. "Will you drive me home and go to work?"

"What do you mean, 'what happens'? I'm not going into work. I'm taking care of you."

"You are?"

"Grey put me on family medical leave for a few weeks."

Her hand froze over the nape of his neck. "Why would he do that?"

"Because I asked," he told her simply, but there was no underplaying the importance of what he said next. "Because you're my family."

She knew he wouldn't call her that lightly, not with his history. She was his family, and he was hers, and as much as she was moved by his words, she was still loath to picture herself in need of help. The idea of being cared for by Tim, now that he'd called her family… it was easier to swallow her pride, to submit herself to his care.

Because that's what family did, after all.

"Lucy."

"Yes?"

"Do you remember what you said to me the night we kissed?"

She'd said a lot to him that night. Most of it she wasn't proud of; she wondered what he was referring to. "I know I said I love you."

There was unguarded happiness in his voice as he replied, "Not that, although… same."

She knew he was teasing her, but she feigned indignation nonetheless. "Nope. No. Redo. I demand a redo. You are not going to 'same' me the first time you say you love me."

"Okay, if you want to get technical, I said it first."

"When wasthat? Where was I?"

"The quarantine house? Remember?" She did not. "When I said no man could forget you once he loved you?"

Lucy scoffed. "That is not the same as those three words in order."

"Why not? It felt the same."

At this, she laughed, if only because the conversation was somehow both ridiculous and totally on-brand for them. "You know," she said through a snicker, "this is the argument I thought we'd have months ago."

"Well… better late than never." His tone was colored by apology when he spoke next. "You said it's always what I want. That it's always my timing."

"Tim…" She sighed over his name with a sad shake of her head. She'd told him that in a moment of weakness. In anger. Sure, it had roots in truth, but it was not the entire truth, and saying so had been careless on her part. It glossed over the nuances of their relationship, ignoring the countless complications they'd encountered since… well, since the day they met. Since the moment their timers went off. She hadn't meant for him to dwell on her words, had never counted on him internalizing them, and she was filled with remorse hearing that he had done just that.

"You were right to say it," he said.

"No. I was hurt."

"Yes, but you were still right." He sighed, the breath making her hand rise and fall with his chest. "Anyway, I guess I just wanted to tell you that… it's your move. Whatever comes next, it's your move."

"… Did you just put me in charge?" she asked, then added, "Because I like the sound of that. 'Your move'." Lucy felt giddy as she replayed the words in her head. "That's very 'I serve at Her Majesty's Pleasure' of you."

Tim chuckled. "Something like that."

Her reply was short; sweet. Uncomplicated. "Okay."

It was not the answer he'd anticipated. The darkness of the room could not conceal how Tim turned to shoot her a look with narrowed eyes and a smile on his lips. "Really? That's all you have to say? 'Okay'?"

"What did you expect? A timeline?" She smirked. "A countdown, maybe?"

"It took me months to get to this point and you're going to keep me in suspense? You're not going to put me out of my misery?"

"Misery? Oh, please." She trailed her hands lower, away from his hair and towards his shoulder. "A little suspense is good for a relationship."

"Uh oh."

"It is. It keeps thingsspicy."

"'Spicy'," he repeated, then said drily, "Fuck. I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"You just put me in control," she replied before lowering her lips to his cheek, skating soft kisses across the growing stubble of his jawline. Oh, she would enjoy this, she thought, grinning at his small shiver of delight as she whispered in his ear.

"You are insomuch trouble, Tim."

Chapter 33: Her Majesty's Pleasure

Notes:

"I don't want to wait another day,
I wanna drive you crazy."
- "Touch", Barcelona

PLEASE NOTE THIS CHAPTER IS RATED E/EXPLICIT

Chapter Text

As Grace had determined during her initial visit, Lucy was discharged from Shaw Memorial the next morning. She was excited to discard the gown and slip into her own clothes while Tim brought his truck around to the main entrance, and had just finished dressing when he knocked on the door to her room.

"Come in," she said. He opened it and pushed in a wheelchair. Wrinkling her nose, Lucy complained, "Do I have to?"

He smirked. "Hospital policy."

She sighed, but lowered herself into the seat gingerly and without further complaint, except for saying, "They let just anyone drive these things, I guess."

It took some clever maneuvering to get her out of the wheelchair and safely into his lifted truck, and it was a good thing that Lucy wasn't particular about protecting her dignity, because being picked up and placed in the seat like she was some sort of helpless child would've been embarrassing if she were. As it was, she stopped Tim just short of buckling the seatbelt for her.

"I've got this part, Bradford," she said and grinned as he held his hands back.

"Just trying to help," he replied before shutting the door and rounding the front of his truck. As he got in the driver's seat, she asked what the plan was.

"Well, if it's okay with you… I was going to take you home."

"Home?"

"I mean, my home. My house."

She didn't say anything at first, prompting him to rush through an explanation. "I mean, since I'm taking care of you, it just makes sense right? My house is closer to the hospital. No stairs will be better for your ankle. And West already brought a few of your things over, so you don't have to pack." When she still said nothing, he added, "If you'd rather I take you to your apartment, I can."

"I didn't say that," she replied, "but did you really make a list of bullet points with all the reasons why I should say yes?"

"I was prepared to beg if I needed to."

He didn't need to beg. Lucy wanted to stay at his house. She was secretly overjoyed he'd had the forethought to offer, and not just because it would be easier for her recovery. She hadn't been lying when she called it her favorite place. There was nowhere else on earth she'd rather be while she healed.

They pulled into the drive a few minutes after she conceded to stay at his home for the time being. She smiled as they approached, spotting from a distance her little Datsun parked on the street out front. It was a relief to see it had been safely recovered; she just hoped the tow had been gentle on the old girl's pretty delicate suspension. As they parked, Tim once more rounded the front of his truck and helped her down, but she had not set a single foot on the concrete before he took her up in his arms and carried her bridal style towards the front door.

"What is happening right now?" she exclaimed, then laughed as she looped her arms around his neck. "Are you seriously going to carry me over the threshold? Who knew you could be so cheesy?"

"I think you're looking for a different word there."

"No, the word I'm looking for is the one I said.Cheesy," she maintained, but did not ask to be put down even as he made it to the front door and froze when he couldn't get his keys out of his pocket. "Are you having trouble?"

He huffed, "This is what I get for trying to be romantic."

Tim set her down just long enough to fish the house key out of his pocket, but soon picked her up again and, as she'd guessed he would, carried her over the threshold. As he did so, she kissed the hollow of his throat. It was a gesture he hadn't expected, if the way he inhaled sharply was any indication. She grinned against his skin before breathing in the scent of him, a combination of his aftershave and his soap. She'd never noticed it before, but then again, she'd rarely been afforded the chance to be this close to him. She was terribly tempted to touch his pulse point with the tip of her tongue; if she could guarantee he wouldn't drop her, she would have done so. As it was, she only placed a second kiss against his neck, and this time he breathed her name as his arms tightened around her briefly before he once more set her on the carpet just inside the front door.

Although it had only been a few weeks since she'd last visited there were perceptible changes to the house that Lucy noticed immediately. It had been recently cleaned; not surprising, that, given that Tim tended to keep his place immaculate. The photos on the shelves had been rearranged, and a few pictures of him as a child had been added to the collection. The record player had been given a permanent place atop a silver metal stand beside the window seat, and on the shelves beneath it was a small group of five or six vinyls; there was the Ella Fitzgerald one Lucy had gifted him on his birthday, but now it was joined by a handful of others that he'd added on his own. A bundle of pink peonies and white lilies were arranged in a purple glass vase, the fragrance of the blooms reaching the doorway. Above the pathway that led from the living room to the dining room, someone had hung a handmade banner. "Welcome Home, Lucy", it read.

She turned to him and asked, "Did you do this?"

He played coy. "I had a little help the past few days."

"What would you have done if I asked you to take me to my apartment?"

"You didn't, though."

"But what if I had?"

"I told you I was prepared to beg."

Even though she'd been there dozens of times before, Lucy had never ventured beyond the guest bathroom midway down the hall. The other three doors that lined the hallway had always been closed. Although she was curious, she'd never so much as sneaked a peek into any of the rooms; worrying she'd somehow violate Tim's trust overpowered the temptation to pry. Each of the three doors were open now as he led her down the hall. The two spare rooms were empty and bare, with the exception of the room on the left-hand side of the corridor. That had only a few boxes stored inside, labeled with things like "Tim's clothes" or "Faye" in block letters. No move had been made to decorate either of the spare rooms, and the blinds were closed, blocking all light until Lucy flipped the switches and illuminated the ceiling lights in both. After seeing the empty spaces, she turned to Tim with a quizzical look and asked, "Did you have plans for these rooms?"

At first his response was a shrug. Then, "I used to," he answered vaguely before looking away and heading farther down the hall. She followed behind, slowed by the cast as he led her to the master bedroom. Besides the living room and backyard, it was the only other room in the house that felt lived-in; the only one that felt close to finished. A king-sized bed stood against the wall, set inside against a headboard and frame of dark wood that matched the end tables. A his-and-hers dresser sat opposite the door, and above it hung a large rectangular mirror that faced the bed.

"Looks like West left your things there," Tim said, pointing toward the corner of the room where a large black suitcase stood. "Lopez said she helped, too." He chuckled dryly. "I'm a little afraid to see what she meant."

Lucy smirked. "I'm glad Jackson was there. If it were left to Angela, she would have handed me a bottle ofDior J'adoreand nothing else." When he didn't seem to understand, she explained, "It's a perfume."

"Why would she pack you perfume?"

"You're glossing over the 'nothing else' part, babe. I'm saying she would haveonlypacked me perfume."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Um, well, I guess that would be on brand for her."

"Totally. And I'm sure you'd find it so disagreeable, wouldn't you?" she teased as she closed the space between them and hooked her fingers into his belt loops, pulling him towards her before placing her hands on his chest.

His eyes narrowed, gaze becoming lidded and lusty as she slowly trailed her hands over his torso. "What are you doing, Lucy?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked, feigning innocence. "I promised you trouble." Her palms slowly coasted down his shirt, coming to a stop just inches away from the waistband of his jeans. It was then that she looked up at him with half of a smile before suddenly pulling away, turning her back towards him as she continued to explore the room. A small walk-in closet was not far from the entrance, and that is where she directed her attention next. "I'm just saying, you could do worse than your soulmate wearing perfume and not much more, you know," she noted, suppressing a giggle at his little huff of disbelief at her actions and quick withdrawal as she opened the closet door. A couple of dress shirts, some slacks, and Tim's Class A's only took up one-third of the available space. "Is it okay if I use the closet once I unpack?"

"Help yourself. Oh, before I forget," he motioned her towards the bathroom and she followed, gasping to find that the master bath had been renovated somewhat recently, built with care and a design style seen nowhere else in the house. There were two sinks with sterling fixtures that stood attached to a large mirror. Tim had claimed one for himself, if the presence of his razor, toothbrush, and toothpaste were any indication, but the one to the right was clear of toiletries. That would be hers, then. There was no tub, but a large square shaped shower stood in an alcove that had been cut into the wall. It was modern enough that it seemed anachronistic when compared to the rest of the house, but she didn't comment on it before Tim went to the knob and turned it.

"The shower can get a little tricky," he explained. "It takes a while to heat up, but once it's hot, it doesn't go back to cold, so don't go above this black line here on the dial if you like having skin."

She pointed to the shower. "Did you install this yourself?"

"I'm not going to ask Nolan to fix the shower, so don't even say it."

Lucy snickered. "I wasn't going to. You did this?" He nodded. "And the backyard?" She shifted from one foot to the other, wincing when the weight hit her bad ankle. She adjusted again before continuing. "Two spare rooms. I take it you and Isabel had some high hopes for this place." She'd had the inkling long ago, but now Lucy knew for certain just what the home represented for him. Hadn't he told her something similar before?

I've thought everything I wanted was in the palm of my hand before. That whole cliche with the house, the fence, two-point-five kids.

There was room enough in the house for two children; more, if some of them shared a room. It made her heart ache with sympathy as she once again remembered what he'd lost. What had left him long before she entered his life.

"Something like that," he answered softly, hesitantly. It was clear by his expression that he didn't quite understand what she was getting at. "I guess you could say we had plans in mind."

Lucy reached for his wrist with both of her hands, gently pulling him toward her. Her gaze remained down, focusing her attention on his fingers, tracing over the rough skin of his palm. "I hope you kept them," she whispered after a minute. "The plans, I mean. Who knows? Maybe one day we'll want them."

She heard him swallow hard and glanced up to see his Adam's apple bob in his throat. "I didn't know that… plans… were something you wanted," he stammered. "We've… you and I… we never talked about 'plans'."

It was hard not to chuckle at his awkwardness, but she held back, not wanting to embarrass him. "I think we'd make good 'plans' together, Tim. My eyes and smile? Your height and attitude? Those would be some cute, unnecessarily confrontational plans." She released his hand and wound her arms around his waist. With her good ankle, she raised onto her tiptoe, kissing him gently before saying, "Just so we're clear, we are talking about kids, right? 'Plans' is just the weird metaphor we settled on for some reason?"

He chuckled. "Yes, Lucy. Someday." He reciprocated her kiss then, sweetly claiming her mouth for a minute before whispering, "I love you," against her lips.

She nuzzled her nose over his and smiled. "Same."

There were benefits to recovering at home versus the hospital. The comfort couldn't be matched, for one thing; Tim's bed was cozier by miles than what Shaw Memorial had dared to mislabel a mattress, and she was no longer prodded, poked, and pinched every few hours. There was not the constant din of nurses shuffling about on their rounds, the beeps of machines, the ringing of phones, and it didn't hurt that her caretaker shared the bed with her, even if it was at Lucy's insistence. He had initially planned to spend the nights on the couch, a suggestion she dismissed as ridiculous the second she heard it. As she had been instructed to sleep upright for the first week, he did his best to keep her comfortable, adjusting and readjusting her pillows as needed so she could sleep in as little pain as possible, and sometimes at the expense of his own rest.

There was at least one notable downside, though: no strictly enforced visitor policy, which meant that it was up to Tim to hold a hard boundary on who could visit, for how long, and when. Fortunately, turning people away with a grouchy "not today" was something he was more than equipped to handle, and he maintained a tight grip on who was allowed to check-in, keeping it only a few select people. Lucy was given final approval on who could stop by and when. If she was tired or felt poorly, or if she simply didn't want to put up with visitors at the moment, he read her mood with a single look and declined on her behalf.

During her first evening at Tim's house, Dennis and his wife Francesca were permitted to stop by for a short stay. They came with a "get well" balloon and homemade eggplant parmesan. Francesca, a kind, petite woman in her sixties, was quick to fawn over Lucy after handing Tim the casserole dish. She was a retired nurse, she said, and would be glad to help if ever she felt she needed it during her recovery. Lucy didn't think she would need anything Francesca could provide, but the offer itself was kind, and in light of it she asked whether they'd be staying to share dinner with them. They weren't, allowing the pair the chance to eat at their leisure without the added pressure of "entertaining two old fuddy-duddies" (Francesca's words, not Lucy's). They left shortly after delivering the meal, and Francesca left behind her cell phone number, "just in case".

Her parents were permitted to visit the next morning after she deferred their visit an extra day. She anticipated renewed pushback against her job even though she'd since concluded her position as a police officer had had very little to do with her kidnapping; she'd seen Nora Valdez in pictures and knew that, at least to some extent, she was chosen because she ticked particular boxes for Caleb. Lucy told Tim to ask them to come early, counting on their appointment schedules to bail her out if necessary. He was the one who answered the door when they knocked. She waited on the couch, and the moment the door opened, her mother burst into tears and rushed to her side. She was shocked by the sudden display of open emotion from her typically shrill, overbearing mom, and her surprise was compounded when her father joined them, each occupying an open space on either of her sides as they clung to her. She was overwhelmed by the display, and before she knew it began to cry a little herself. For a while nothing was said, and all they did was hold her while Tim shrank away, trying to give the family a little room before her mother noticed his retreat and scolded him.

"Timothy Bradford, don't you dare," Mom said, and extended her hand toward him, bringing him awkwardly into the family embrace.

No mention of her job was made throughout their entire visit, and before they left, both of her parents promised to stay in better touch. Whether that would actually happen remained to be seen, but Lucy felt hopeful as they departed. She turned to Tim with gratitude as they drove away.

"Thank you for doing that. For being here for me," she said, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

The first week flew by, the days occupied by the occasional visitor and binges of "Hell's Kitchen". When the day of Lucy's follow-up appointment arrived, Tim offered to accompany her, but this plan was thwarted by a single text message from Sergeant Grey. He needed Tim to come to the station, and although he promised the meeting would be brief, the timing intersected with Lucy's appointment.

"I can try to reschedule," he offered, looking guilty as he stood in the doorway of the master bathroom.

Lucy smiled at the reflection of him in the mirror as she applied a coat of black mascara to her lashes. "I'll be fine on my own, babe," she replied.

He was already home when she returned, fresh from his meeting with Sergeant Grey, and brewing a new pot of coffee when she entered the kitchen and said "Ta-dah!" before showing off her bootless ankle beneath black leggings.

"Congrats," he said with a smirk as she closed the gap between them and wound her arms around his waist. "We should celebrate."

"Celebrate?"Lucy grinned. "Did you have something in particular in mind? I mean," she leaned into him harder, going up on her tiptoes as her arms looped around his neck, "I have been cleared for all activities you know."

He chuckled. "I wasn't going to saythat…I was going to ask you out on a date."

"A date?"

"We've never been on one. A real one, I mean." He looked a little shy -almost nervous- as he elaborated. "I wanted to take you to this place called Ravenna. It's nice. They have a patio with a view, and there's this fillet they serve that just melts in your mouth… and it turns out I sort of have something of my own to celebrate tonight."

"Oh really?"

"My meeting with Sarge? It was about my exam score. I ranked eighth."

"Tim, that's amazing!"

"There's more. I've been offered the sergeant's position in North Hollywood."

"That's great, honey."

"Sure is."

"… You don't seem excited."

He shrugged. "I wouldn't be your TO anymore."

"We knew this might happen."

"Yea, I know," he conceded, but admitted in a whisper, "but it's going to be hard to let you out of my sight."

She'd figured that would make him hesitant, and it was a fear she could not dispel easily. "You'd have to do that eventually, even if you stayed as my TO."

"I know, but this is sooner. They want me to start next week. When I go back to work at the end of my leave, I'd report to North Hollywood."

She stepped back and crossed her arms as she considered his situation. "Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to take it?"

"It's not a decision that just affects me."

"But is it what youwant?"

He closed the new distance between them, uncrossing her arms by taking her wrists gently. "Be honest with me, honey. What do you need? Do you need me to see you through the rest of your training?"

Did she? It wasn't that she was anxious to get rid of him. Not that at all, and this had been the plan for a while. Yes, things had changed yet again, and yes, she needed him to an extent, but where she needed him wasn't on the job. It was here, at home. By her side.

"Who would take me on? And please, please don't say Smitty."

"Harper offered."

"Harper? The same Harper you told me not to trust?"

"There's not many people I'd trust to take over for me, especially when it comes to you… but I'll admit that she can teach you things I can't." Given that that was almost verbatim what Harper had said the day she and Lucy worked together, she guessed that a conversation had been had between the two that she was only now learning about. "And Grey must like you, because he's offered to take Nolan on for the rest of his training to make the switch possible."

"Wow." She was a little humbled by the efforts of her co-workers. "I'm kind of shocked at how accommodating everyone is."

"Doesn't happen much with cops," he agreed, "but it's your call, Lucy. It's your choice."

"What do you want?" she repeated.

"I want whatever you need. Whatever makes you happy."

"Well, what would make me happy is for us to both have what we want. You want to be Sergeant, and I wantyou. Take the job, Tim," she said, and even though she felt some anxiety rising as she considered the adjustment required so close to the end of her training, she was also adamant. "It's the right choice for both of us." Then she said, "So,Sergeant… are you going to ask me out or aren't you?"

"I… thought I just did?"

"Did you say 'will you go out with me tonight'? Because I didn't hear it."

"Oh my God, is this the 'three words' fight all over again?" he groaned, but relented nonetheless. "Lucy Chen, will you go out with me tonight?"

She pretended to think about it. "I'll have to let you know."

"You'lllet me know?!"

"Well, itisshort notice, Tim," she teased. "I have to make sure my schedule is clear. Oh, God, and then there's my outfit to think of."

"You think you're so funny."

"Yes."

"Is that yes you think you're funny, or yes, you'll go out with me tonight?"

She hummed and gave a non-committal shrug before running her lips down his jawline. He'd stopped shaving in the week off work, and the stubble tickled a little as she grazed it. "Can't it be both?"

"You about done?" Tim asked through the closed door of the master bathroom. Based off of his tone, she could envision perfectly his grumpy expression, and while the image amused her it did not entice her to speed up. "We're going to be late if we don't leave soon."

Lucy leisurely swiped more lipstick over her pout before calling in reply, "Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'all good things come to those who wait'?"

"Are you kidding? I've been living that phrase for the past week."

"Ha!" she snorted, then set aside the lipstick and opened the door, surprising him. His jaw dropped as his eyes traveled up her body, beginning with her legs and lingering over her hips and breasts before finally finding her face.

"Is that-"

"Yeah. It is," she replied, running her hands down the ruched front of the dress. It was the white cocktail dress she'd worn on New Years. She'd texted Angela that afternoon and asked to borrow it, and then sneaked out to pick it up while Tim was showering. Angela was happy to loan it out again, but relayed two rules while handing Lucy the garment bag. Rule number one, no red wine. Rule number two? No fucking in the dress.

She promised she wouldn't drink red wine.

Lucy turned a half-circle, revealing the open back of the dress where her hands had not been able to reach the zipper. As she gathered up her hair, she looked over her shoulder and asked him with a coquettish flutter of her lashes, "Can you zip me please?"

He paused only a second before stepping forward to do just that, slowly pulling the zipper upwards. She shivered as his fingers ran up the length of her spine, feeling gooseflesh form on her skin as he brushed his thumb over the space between her shoulder blades.

"Don't think I've noticed this before," he said as he traced the mandala on her back, then touched the tattoo on her neck. "What does this one mean?"

"It's cantonese," she replied. "It means strength." The word froze in her mouth as he dipped his head forward, his tongue briefly laving over the inked skin as she whispered his name. "Tim…"

"You look incredible," he murmured. "Are you sure you feel up to going out tonight?" Once more, he trailed a single fingertip over her spine, lower and lower, stopping only an inch or two above the small of her back. Any lower and he'd be palming her ass.

She met his eyes in the mirror and silently dared him to go lower.

He chuckled wryly at the heat in her stare, but his hand did not move another inch. Instead, he said, "Maybe we should stay home."

"And miss our reservation?" Lucy scoffed. "Never. You asked me on a date and we're going, dammit." Then she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle on his collar before stepping back slightly to finally take in the complete sight of him. He wore a gray suit and a white dress shirt with no tie. The top button was left undone, showing just a little of his tanned chest. She was tempted to run her fingers over the exposed triangle of skin.

She was also tempted to tear all of the buttons off with her teeth.

"That's a nice suit," was what she told him, nodding her approval with a grin and speaking none of her thoughts aloud. "I didn't even know you owned one." Not that she'd snooped through his side of the closet, but… well, yes, she had, and she did not recall seeing it among his clothes.

"There's lots about me you don't know."

She laughed. "Not much. I know you're weird about the coffee maker." He insisted on storing it in the cupboard between uses, which she maintained made no sense when an appliance was needed so frequently. "I know you're a terrible singer. How did you give the birthday song three different keys? It's only, like, eight notes."

"That's just two things, and I told you I have other strengths."

"Yes. You did."

She couldn't wait to find out what they were.

Lucy felt butterflies in her stomach as they ascended the stairs to Ravenna's rooftop patio. Butterflies, and not just because she'd made the unwise decision to wear pretty insensible high-heeled shoes that left her knees a little wobbly. It wasn't quite nerves, nor was it jitters. It was actually rather similar to the sensations she experienced the night before her timer went off; something more complex than nerves or jitters that she only now recognized asthrill. It was the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down into the ocean, or the moment the car crested the first drop on a roller coaster. This last week -and this evening in particular- had been a precipice.

Walking through a nice restaurant, dressed to the nines with his hand on her lower back? That felt a lot like leaning over the edge.

"So," she began after they had been seated, "it's our first date."

"It is."

"And to think it only took ten months."

"Yeah. Only."

She could still recall in vivid detail the day they met, even as events occurring after it had faded from memory. That was where it all began, and she smiled to herself remembering how they'd both launched to their feet when their timers went off.

"What's that face for?" he asked, interrupting her train of thought.

"Hm? Oh," she shook her head and giggled. "Nothing. Just remembering the day the timers went off."

"Really?" He leaned forward with a smile. "What are you remembering?"

"You're going to think it's silly."

"Probably. Tell me anyway."

"I was thinking," she said, pausing once in an attempt to battle back embarrassment she felt rising, "that when I first saw you, I thought my favorite color was blue."

"And it isn't?"

Lucy shook her head. "It's olive green… but your eyes are blue." She blushed as she hid her face with her hands and half-groaned, half-laughed at herself. "Ugh, I said it was silly." When she looked up again, she saw he was not laughing at her, rather he was watching her fondly.

"You want to know what I thought?" She did. "I thought, 'that beautiful woman just made the world stop turning'."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "You absolutely did not."

"No," he admitted. "I didn't think that. But it sure as hell felt like it."

Their drink orders arrived then, and the conversation momentarily came to a halt. Tim had asked for a manhattan. Lucy, mindful of Angela's warning about red wine, had selected a glass of chardonnay. They then placed their orders for entrees, and after the waitress excused herself, Lucy picked up the conversation where they left off.

"So is that why you said, 'shit?" she asked.

He sputtered mid-sip. "I'm sorry?"

"When you first saw me." It wasn't something she'd soon forget; those blue eyes of his going wide, his jaw slack. The sound of her timer chiming, the one on his wrist beeping as his glare landed on her, and he cussed. "You said 'shit'." She reached for her wine and took a sip as she teased, "You really knew how to make a girl feel special, you know."

He didn't look hurt by her ribbing, but she saw the way he inhaled; he was preparing to explain, to possibly redeem himself at last.

"I said 'shit' because I walked into roll call sure that soulmates didn't exist, and then I saw you."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, God." Tim chuckled as he shook his head. "Okay, no. I know it sounds bad, but it's not, I promise." Then he said plainly, "I said that because it was the first of, I don't know… a dozen times that I thought I might be wrong about soulmates."

"Oh, only a dozen? Interesting. Seems low," she joked, taking another sip of her drink as he pretended to look offended. "So when did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That soulmates were real. That I was yours." Lucy smiled at him over her glass. "That you were wrong."

He did not match her levity, his face turning somber as he responded. "I knew you were my soulmate when you came to Isabel's apartment the night after she was arrested."

"Why that night?"

He answered his question with one of his own. "Do you remember what you told me?"

I would never ask you to protect me.

I know. But you should know I would never make you ask.

Lucy nodded. "I told you that I'd protect you."

"No one had ever said that to me before. Not my dad, not Isabel." His smile was sad and a little teary as he said, "I didn't think anyone would ever care about me like that, so when you said it…" He trailed off, took a deep breath, and chased it with a sip from his cocktail. "That's why I told you don't make me choose between you and her again. After that moment, I knew I'd choose you. I'd choose you every time, but I'd made a vow, and I needed to honor that for as long as they were relevant."

It didn't hurt her to hear Isabel referenced; not how it would have in the past, at least. And no, spending their first date talking about his ex wasn't exactly how she envisioned the night going, but it didn't frustrate or insult her. Rather, his honesty and openness endeared her.

"I had no idea, Tim," she said, reaching for his hand and covering it with hers. "You're a good man, honey. You're honorable."

He disagreed. "The honorable thing would've been to wait for you, especially knowing what I know now."

Lucy wouldn't let that stand, but before she could disagree, he spoke again. "Then you came to the hospital the night she got shot, and… God, Lucy, you made it impossible not to fall in love with you. You were good to me right from the start, even when I deserved it the least."

"I'm not always good, you know." Cam and her betrayal of his trust sprang to mind, but she wisely refrained from mentioning her ex. While she and Isabel were on decent terms, the same could not be said of Tim and Cam.

"Believe me, I know. You're wearing that dress when you and I both know you aren't going to let me touch you tonight. If you ask me, that's cruel and unusual punishment."

"I didn't say you couldn't touch me," Lucy countered as she traced her finger around the base of her wine glass, meeting his glare as she finished proudly (and a little too loudly for as nice an establishment as Ravenna), "I just haven't decided whether you'llfuckme."

His eyes went wide before he cast a nervous glance at the other diners; fortunately, no one had seemed the least bit bothered by her colorful language.

"Lucille."

Okay, hearing him use her entire first name was more than a little hot. She struggled to pay attention as he scolded her.

"We are in public and you're using words like that?"

"Don't tell me you're bashful,Tim. That'll make this so much more boring if you are." It was a bluff, but she nudged his leg beneath the table with her foot.

He looked at her once, determining, "You don't strike me as an exhibitionist."

She wasn't, but still she replied, "There's a lot about me you still have to learn."

"But not tonight?" She refrained from answering long enough that he hissed through a tight smile, "You're torturing me here, babe."

"Oh, baby." She leaned forward, knowing full well that doing so caused the dress to dip, exposing her décolletage and forcing his eyes to break their haughty stare. "That's the idea."

That was the idea, yes… but her willpower was weakening, and it all but evaporated during the drive back to his house. It wasn't that she'd ever had a particular timeline to her promise of "so much trouble"; she'd just been waiting for the right moment. But the right moment never came, and she realized as he drove them home thatthere was no such thing.Perfect timing was a myth. There was only time. So why not now? There had been no catalyst to cause this switch to her thinking; at least, none that she could easily determine. Maybe it was dinner. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way he wore the hell out of his suit. Whatever it was, the revelation that she was done toying with him hit her suddenly, like the realization she loved him had, and she knew she wouldn't wait another minute.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he pointed the truck towards home. He'd let her pick the music, just like always. Mid-song, she switched it to Hozier. As the first strains of "Take Me To Church" played, Tim looked at her sideways.

"You're being mean again," he said.

She snickered to herself, but said nothing.The poor guy, she thought. He had no idea what was coming. That made her victory all the sweeter, but the drive through downtown had never felt so long. When they finally pulled into the drive, Tim offered her an after dinner drink.

"I have beer," he said after they went inside, "but I also picked up your favorite red yesterday if you want that instead."

She followed him into the kitchen and made a show of considering it as she slipped out of her shoes. She held onto the heels with one hand before slipping her free arm around his waist, hugging him with her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

"Sounds nice, but Angela has rules about this dress. I'd have to change. I think I want to shower anyway."

"Okay," he acknowledged, expecting her to pull away then.

She didn't. "You should join me."

"… What?"

"In the shower. You should join me," she repeated, biting back a giggle when his entire body went rigid. She wondered if he needed to be convinced, or if he expected her to say more. She wouldn't. She'd said all she needed to; she'd made her move. Now it was back on him, and even though he didn't immediately follow her to the bedroom, she doubted he'd stay back for long.

She was right.

The shower was warm when she stepped beneath the spray (careful, of course, not to let the dial go above the black mark) and let it rinse over her skin. She'd piled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, thinking to herself with a chuckle that nothing would be less sexy than to pause their lovemaking so she could blow dry her hair. After a few minutes in the shower, she heard the bathroom door open and close. A moment later, Tim pulled back the curtain and stepped in.

Neither said anything at first. They stood silent and stared, drinking in the sight of one another's naked bodies with a want that bordered on greed. For as long as his gaze took in her body, Lucy matched him, her eyes traveling over every perfectly formed ridge of his arms and abdomen. She wanted to run her fingers across the "V" that connected his hips to his pelvis. His eyes were dark with lust, his stare intense as it met hers. His dick was erect and ready for her, and she only just stopped herself from taking him in hand without warning or preamble.

They couldn't have stared for more than a moment; the heat of the water on her back did not compare to the burn that once more erupted over Lucy's skin as she submitted to his touch when his hands took timid hold of her hips. She'd thought the fire dwindled after the first few weeks, but she saw now it hadn't. It lay in wait, condensing in the center of her body, a flame that burned her with its yearning. She wanted him, longed for him even with his body only inches from her own, and her tongue felt heavy in her mouth as she tried and failed to articulate her wishes. Months -years, really- of building up to this, and her mind drew a blank. All she knew was she wanted to touch and be touched by him, to explore every inch he'd hidden from her; to know what it felt like for the rhythm of his body to move in sync with hers.

Fortunately, Tim required no instruction, and no directive fell from her lips as the fingers on her hips gently glided upwards, ending just below the fold of her breasts.

"Do you trust me, Lucy?" he asked. Not love. Not want.

Trust.

She nodded.

"I'm going to take care of you," he promised.

So he did. Gently guiding her out of the way of the water, he reached for her body wash, lathering a small amount in his hands before once more reaching for her. His hand slid over her breast, leaving a soapy trail before stopping on her side, gently washing her tattoo. It was the last of her wounds to heal, and it still smarted when water landed on it directly, but his touch was soft and she felt no pain.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered.

"Who says I am?"

"It'syou, babe. You're always thinking." Then he asked, "Are you nervous?"

At least this she could answer confidently. "No." No, she wasn't nervous, but there was no denying that there was a finality to the moment. It felt like they were drawing a thick line through their lives, a slash that separated the "before" of now to the soon-arriving "after". She was working hard to be present for it, fighting against her tendency to introspect, to withdraw and internalize. "I'm not nervous," she repeated, "but I don't want to rush this. It's special. It feels—"

"—Sacred," he finished, and although it wasn't what she would've landed on herself, she felt it was more accurate than her intended response, summing it up in a single word. Yes, sacred, and not for any religious or faithful reason, but for the bond established between the two of them. As cliche a phrase as it was, making love would only clinch it. This would only confirm in their bodies what their hearts already knew, what the timers had told them. This would only seal what other loves, losses, trials, and terrors had not succeeded in breaking.

He rinsed the soap off of his hand, then once more ran it down her side, wiping away the foam as he went. When his hand stopped at her hip, he reached for her with the other and pulled her towards him, kissing her. He tasted like whiskey again, she realized, so he must have taken a shot before he joined her.

"Are you nervous?" she asked.

"Yes."

He claimed her mouth again before she could say more, and all other questions died in her throat as he walked her back slowly until her shoulders pressed against the cold tile of the shower. His dick prodded her stomach, and she gripped it firmly, stroking him once in a long, slow motion. God, he was thick, she thought as she ran her thumb over his head, and again caressed down his length. He moaned into her mouth, and the sound sent a quiver down her center. He kissed a trail between her breasts, lingering over her stomach while gripping her hips. A careful nudge with his hand and she opened her legs for him.

He grabbed her left ankle and draped her thigh over his shoulder, then leaned in, looking up at her with a smirk that bordered on haughty before he licked over her clit just once with the tip of his tongue. Lucy groaned as her eyes slipped closed, biting back a keen as his lips closed over her mound. His tongue pressed against her nub in firm, persistent strokes, and the seven-day stubble on his jaw and chin created accompanying sensations on the highest point of her inner thighs that made her throb.

She was vaguely aware of him taking hold of one of her hands and guiding it to his scalp so she could hold his face in place between her legs. Then he made his tongue go flat and rigid and shifted her hips slowly back and forth, back and forth, grinding her clit against his tongue, the effect making her gasp in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck, Tim," she sighed, releasing his head as she tried to steady herself by bracing her palms on his shoulders. With only one foot on the ground and trembling as he inched her towards orgasm, she was certain she'd fall.

He hummed against her skin, then pulled away, his voice husky as he encouraged her. "Don't worry, babe. I've got you." His mouth returned its attention to her clit as he gripped her thighs. Her legs trembled on either side of his head, and she got the sense that he was done playing. He was done teasing her, and began to alternate between sucking and licking, intensifying his efforts to make her come. Her pulse skyrocketed, and Lucy was sure she'd pass out if it didn't end soon. A moment later, she cried out, and her clit pulsed inside his mouth. He did not stop even as the shaking slowed and her breathing evened out, continuing to lick and lap and suck at her, drinking in every last bit of her orgasm until he was satisfied, then rose to his feet of his own accord. He looked smug as he kissed her with wet lips before she reached around him and shut the water off.

The skin of her thighs and breasts were flushed as she toweled off, and Lucy couldn't tell if it was from his touch or from exertion that she looked so pink as she dabbed the water off, then unrolled her hair, shaking out the waves before catching Tim looking at her tenderly.

"What?"

He didn't answer, just cupped her face and kissed her chastely.

Well, nottoochastely; no kiss was innocent when she could taste herself all over his mouth, and new desire erupted throughout her body again. Her hands clung greedily to his neck as she deepened the kiss.

"Bed," she demanded. "Now."

It was the first order she'd been able to verbalize, and he obeyed it in an instant. He took her into his arms, carrying her into the bedroom with her legs around his waist while his hands supported her ass. Only a few steps from the bathroom to the bed, but she pressed her mouth to his throat and sucked lightly on his pulse point as he walked.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered just as she told him to sit. He did as she requested, and she quickly pushed him onto his back.

Tim smirked. "What happened to not rushing it?"

"I can change my mind," she replied. "'Her Majesty's Pleasure', remember?" She positioned his tip against her slick entrance. "Look at me."

He did, eyes so blue as he watched her, expectant.

The edge of a cliff, looking down into the ocean.

Holding his gaze, Lucy sank down upon him in a slow, fluid motion, and her mouth fell open as he filled her. Oh, she'd known he was thick, and it was just what she needed. It felt like every nerve ending in her body -and especially those between her hips- stood at attention. Her pleasure was heightened by the grunt he released before his fingers dug into her waist.

"Fuck," he mumbled, and she smiled lazily as she leaned down to once more take his mouth, sliding her tongue over his before she began to roll her hips, working up and down in an unhurried pace. Throughout, Tim's stare remained trained on her face, and as they built towards release both of them laughed softly, seeming to marvel without words over the fact that they'd made it here. After everything -every fight and every obstacle- they'd made it here.

The sated smiles and laughter soon faded; their expressions sobered. His eyes gleamed, and her vision blurred. The joy of the moment gave way to its gravity, to solemnity. It was this -them- forever. They were theirs. They belonged to one another and no one else; this was what they'd chosen.Forsaking all others,she thought, and put her hand over his heart.

Her strokes were no longer slow and languid, but shorter. Needy. When she leaned back, his cock hit her in just the right place, and she inhaled sharply.

"Yes. There." The pace quickened, and she let out another surprised gasp as Tim began to circle her clit with his thumb, accelerating her towards finishing. She lasted only another minute or two, her movements uneven and her breaths shallow as she chased her release.

"Come, baby," Tim said, holding her steady as he thrusted up into her while gripping her thighs. "Right on my cock. Come."

Heat coiled between her legs, concentrating below her belly before it suddenly burst outward, like she shattered from the inside out. Lucy pitched forward against his chest as she came with a shuddered exhale. Her forehead rested against his heartbeat as his dick pulsed inside her, following her over the edge.

And then, silence.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them moved. Even breathing too heavily felt like it would dispel whatever invisible, imaginary calm seemed to cloak them.

It was only seconds. It had to have only been seconds.

It just felt like more.

The silence faded when Lucy bent down to kiss him, her hair draping around Tim like a veil before she grinned and uttered a single word against his lips.

"Shit."

Chapter 34: Epilogue: Forever

Notes:

"We lost so much,
In the fire of time,
But something about you,
Has got me feeling alive.
There must be magic,
Inside your bones,
When I get lost, dear,
I'm not alone.
You feel like home."

- "You Feel Like Home", Hills x Hills

Chapter Text

Tim's transfer to North Hollywood was made official the second week of September. Two weeks later, Lucy returned to work to finish her probationary term under Nyla Harper's instruction. Delayed by her recovery, she found herself completing the program a month behind her fellow rookies. She graduated to P2 according to her new schedule at the end of November. The first week of December, she officially offered Jackson her lease as a sublet and moved the remainder of her belongings in with Tim, making what was only his, theirs.

She liked the sound of that.Theirs.

Lucy decorated the house like a madwoman for that first Christmas together, stringing twinkle lights from every imaginable surface both inside and out. She made a point to save the decoration of the tree for the week before the holiday, waiting until they could dedicate a whole evening to the activity. They wrapped gold garland around a fake evergreen, placing red, white, and green glass bulbs on the limbs while "It's A Wonderful Life" played on the background. More than once, she caught Tim muttering dialogue from the movie alongside Jimmy Stewart.

Their first Christmas Day as a couple was spent in bed, the presents they'd bought for one another laying forgotten until well into the afternoon. "This isn't how I thought Christmas would go," she said, a little breathless as Tim crawled from between her parted legs towards her pillow, one hand caressing up her body as he went.

"Don't tell me you're disappointed," he teased.

"Never."

Maybe next yearshe had said when she called him on New Year's Eve 2019, and she got her wish that year. At her insistence, they hosted a small get together for friends to count down to 2020. When midnight struck, the others ran outside with noisemakers, cheering with the neighbors. Tim held her back by the waist and kissed her thoroughly away from their eyes.

"That's for last New Years'," he said, then pulled her towards him a second time. "And this is for this one."

Following the holidays -once the tree had been put away and the house had been un-Christmased- they set to work on finishing their home. Their design preferences did not always coordinate, and there had been a handful of times that she went a little too credit-happy at IKEA and it led to an argument, but eventually they settled into a style that borrowed from both of their choices. She kept the photos of Tim out, adding a few of her own, and many more of them as a couple were framed and displayed proudly on shelves or leading down the hallway. Over the course of a weekend, she turned the walls of the dining room from white to a forest green. Tim replaced the brown, rectangular table with a round, white one.

The majority of the year passed without incident, and for that Lucy was grateful, even if she did start feeling wary around August as she waited for the other shoe to drop. The one-year anniversary of her kidnapping and rescue passed, and she chalked her apprehension up to that. It wasn't intentional on either of their parts that she and Tim did nothing to mark the day. He offered to stay home, but she didn't want to. She refused to give the day an ounce of power. A year had passed, and other than that month and the tattoo on her side, it had held no sway over her.

"Do you know what you want to do with it yet?" Tim had asked, referring to the numbers on her ribs.

She shook her head. "Not yet. But when I do, I'll tell you."

Inexplicable fatigue set in for Lucy in October. Thinking she was sick or maybe just a touch anemic, she scheduled an appointment with her primary physician.

It was not anemia. Not at all.

Tears were in her eyes when she flew into the house and wrapped her arms around Tim. For too long, she couldn't speak, and it made him scared. When she finally found her voice, it was a muted whisper.

"We're having a baby," she said quietly between small, surprised sobs. "We're having a baby."

Baby Bradford-Chen (or Chen-Bradford, depending who was asked at any given time) would make her debut in June of 2021. Yes,her;a girl, and Tim had gotten choked up at that particular ultrasound appointment. As soon as her pregnancy became common knowledge, Lucy was put on desk duty. She hated it, but she loathed it a little less as her belly grew and she felt the ticklish butterfly flutters that within a few months became the firm kicks of their baby. She was growing a person; she could handle the front desk for a bit longer.

A month before her due date, Tim took Lucy away for the weekend, driving them up to Monterey. They stayed in a quaint little B-and-B, and on the last morning of their stay, he knelt beside her and presented her with a ring. She said yes before the question was entirely out of his mouth, and kissed him deeply as he slipped the ring onto her hand.

Their daughter was born on June 10th, 2021, and had the audacity to arrive in the middle of the night instead of a more reasonable time. Neither of them cared about the hour after the final push saw her all the way into the doctor's arms, and shortly after onto Lucy's stomach.

"Darling," she cooed, tired but joyful as Tim laughed but also kind of cried beside her. "Oh, darling. You're here. You'rehere."

They named her Elena, meaning "shining light". At Lucy's suggestion, it was followed by Faye.

"For your mother," she said to Tim as his eyes gleamed once again with new tears.

"Elena Faye." He hummed her name in disbelief an hour after her birth, his tone awed as he held her tiny body to his bare chest in skin-to-skin contact. "Lucy."

"Yes?"

"She has your eyes."

Weeks later, as Tim returned home from work, she handed the shrieking infant to him when he was only two feet in the doorway.

"She has your attitude," Lucy grumbled, and was both touched and a little incensed when the little one calmed within seconds of being in his arms. Her parental preference was obvious from that point on.

Elena was a daddy's girl, through and through, but she was also the portrait of her mother, and aside from the occasional colicky bout in infancy, showed more of Lucy's nature as well. Her almond-shaped eyes were both piercing and mischievous, and her heart-shaped lips started lifting into the prettiest smiles by her sixth week of life. By her first birthday, glossy brown hair fell just past her chubby chin, and her favorite words were "no" and "Dada".

Lucy scheduled her cover-up tattoo shortly after Elena turned one. Tim offered to accompany her, but she turned him down. "I need to do this alone," she explained, and went to the appointment by herself. She went in with crudely-drawn digits, and left with an elegant spray of grayscale roses that curled up her side.

Roses; the June birth flower. She covered Caleb's numbers with her daughter's birth month. She buried her day of death under the proof of life.

It healed in two weeks, and she never thought of him again.

The wedding was a formality. They were committed to one another, there was no question of that; while neither was in a rush down the aisle, there came a moment in the spring of 2023 where they asked one another what they were waiting for. They hurriedly threw together a wedding in six weeks, inviting only her parents and their closest friends. Her mother hired a wedding photographer ("Please Lucy," she had pleaded, "let me contribute somehow") and Sergeant Grey, who had retired shortly after the last class of rookies graduated, got ordained at their request and served as officiant. Angela was picked to be Tim's best woman, with Wesley accompanying her as a guest. Jackson and Nolan split the man of honor duties. Rachel, Talia, Nyla, Dennis, Francesca, and Grey's wife Luna all attended as witnesses. Including the couple themselves and their daughter, only sixteen people were in attendance, and it was perfect in every way.

Lucy didn't walk down the aisle so much as she marched from the bedroom to the backdoor, but even that was sweet in its own way. Wearing a white dress made of beaded lace, she had to walk past every photo they'd ever hung. Over the past few years, they had covered the drywall with memories. His, hers, and then their daughter; she had to pass their whole life together (so far) to reach her destination.

Elena served as the flower girl, but she barely scattered her basket of petals; to her, it was just another party. She did love the fluffy dress her mother put her in that day, and with its big white bow like butterfly wings and fluffy green skirt, she looked like a little smiling flower. She stood by her father, who looked distinguished and serious in his gray suit, but he broke into a nervous grin as their cluster of friends parted to reveal his bride. Lucy clutched a small bouquet of peonies as she walked towards Tim, holding his eyes with hers as "I'm Glad There Is You" by Ella Fitzgerald played over a speaker in the corner.

They planned a brief ceremony, but it was still not short enough for a two-year old. Nolan picked the toddler up midway through, taking her to swing in the hammock while her parents finished the service. They were only a few feet away from the main event, so they could still hear her excited little voice chattering to Uncle Nolan before he succeeded in distracting her by reading "Llama Llama, Red Pajama" in a quiet voice.

Tim's lips quivered throughout the recitation of vows. Lucy kept it together at all but one part.

"Forsaking all others," she whispered, and her voice briefly wavered.

Angela presented him with Lucy's wedding band, which he then slid it onto her finger.

"With this ring," Grey began.

Tim repeated, "With this ring."

"I thee wed."

"I thee wed."

The same was done for Lucy with Jackson. He handed her Tim's band, but first, she wanted to show Tim his ring. She'd saved a surprise for this moment, having secretly gotten it inscribed with a message for just them.

Till the dashes, it read in cursive.

He kissed her before she could put the ring on his finger as Sergeant Grey playfully admonished him.

"Sorry, sorry!" Tim said as he stepped away. After he had blinked back his tears, she slid the ring onto his finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed," she finished, and then both of them looked to Grey expectantly.

"Oh, so now you're going to wait until I say so, Bradford?" he chuckled. "By the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Chen," he jerked his head towards Tim, "kiss your husband."

They sealed their vows with a kiss to the cheers of their friends.

The ceremony was followed by a small party. Nothing fancy; just a little catered food and a wedding cake from a local bakery. There was no dancing, per se, but Tim had wanted a first dance, so they chose a song to sway to while their family watched. It was a little too upbeat to be a first dance, but the lyrics sounded like their story, and midway through the second verse Elena toddled toward her dad and reached her hands skyward.

"Up, Daddy," she demanded, and he acquiesced at once. The dance continued with one arm around Lucy while the other held Elena. It was as sweet a first dance as there would ever be, and there came a moment during where Lucy was certain she saw things how Tim did. She meant to only glance at him as he held her, as he held their child, but the world seemed to fade into the background as her stare became fixed on his face.

He caught her gaze and kissed her as the song drew to a close. With his forehead pressed against hers, he sang the final lines of the song. He still couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, but even his unpolished voice could handle the simple melody.

"You feel like home," he sang softly, and it felt like another vow. "You feel like home."

The party lasted until well after dark. After the sunset, Tim turned the string lights on. Shortly after, Nolan took a sleeping Elena inside and put her into her crib. The crowd dwindled from there. Francesca and Dennis excused themselves first, then Grey and Luna. Lucy's parents followed them out a few minutes later, and Talia bade them goodbye within a half hour, and Rachel and Nyla departed soon after. Soon, only Lopez, Wesley, Jackson, and Nolan remained, but they sensed the night was coming to a close and began the clean-up efforts.

"Don't worry about this," Lucy tried to say. "I'll get it tomorrow," but Angela rolled her eyes.

"Shut up, Chen," she retorted. "Let us clean up on your wedding day, of all days."

Between the four of them, cleaning up took no time at all, and the rest of their friends were gone by eleven. Tim saw them out. While he was gone, Lucy walked herself over to the hammock. Her dress dragged on the ground as she lay in it, but before she could get too comfortable, her husband (herhusband!)returned. She reached for him.

"Lay down with me?"

He agreed, stretching out beside her (after a bit of maneuvering and balancing and complaints about how long his legs were). The music from earlier remained on, still coming through the blu-tooth speaker, but the playlist had restarted. It cycled back through to their wedding dance, and both of them giggled as they heard the melody.

"Did it turn out how you hoped?" he asked after the song faded and another began.

"The wedding? Or just life in general?"

"I meant the wedding, but now that you mention it…"

She paused to reflect briefly on the past five years. What a question. It wasn't what she thought she wanted, but she realized thanks to the perspective that only came with time that what she'd wanted had been sosmall. What she'd hoped for the day her timer went off was tiny in comparison to the life she had now. She'd only envisioned reaching for his hand on cool spring mornings. She had never thought to picturethis.Imagination paled in comparison to the love she felt for the man beside her, to the child their love had made. The things she'd longed for at the beginning had never been as vivid and beautiful and complete as what they had now.

What she hoped for? Not at all.

It wasbetter.

Lucy brought his left wrist to her mouth. She kissed his timer, then ran her thumb over his wedding ring before turning her gaze towards the sky.

"Tim?"

"Yes, honey?"

"It's so much more than I could ever dream."