6.

Things have been different since Lucy's Christmas party for a number of different reasons. He didn't even want to go really, and he did and in doing so learnt something about himself that's impossible to ignore. He knew he couldn't ignore it. How could he when it's something so monumental?

As soon as Tim got back home after visiting his sister for the holiday season, the first thing he did was go around to Lucy's apartment. He knocked on her door full of nerves, most of them dissipated when he was greeted by her bright smile and joyful vibe. She sounded so pleased to see him, and she practically ushered him inside, offering him a drink, wanting to hear all about his trip.

He didn't go there for that though.

It was only Tim being there for a few minutes that she started to sense his anxiety so Lucy just sat down next to him, lowered her energy so she could ask if he was alright. She wasn't expecting his response – although she was pleased to hear it. "Can you recommend a therapist or a psychologist or whatever?" He asked coyly with a dipped head, but the dipped head was because of his eyeline resting on his cane that he had laid on the floor.

Tim has had six sessions now with a professional. Six difficult sessions of him struggling to open up despite knowing it's what is required to get better. He thought he was just going about his limp, to work out for sure if it is psychosomatic, but in doing so more has been unearthed. It's that more though that he needs to talk about, so he can start to feel happy again and okay in his own skin and maybe – just maybe – he will be able to ditch the cane.

He's using it less for sure and his walks with Kojo have been more energetic and longer. There's still so much to work through but as long as he's patient with himself, and keeps reminding himself why he's doing it, then he thinks he will be okay. He hopes so anyway. "It's going to take time." Lucy warned him after just his second session. It's become a bit of a habit now to debrief with her after each one, without telling her too much of course. It's nice though, having someone to talk to. They've even started having dinner together on occasion, mainly because she insists on having a meal ready for him after a game. "You never eat properly on game day." She told him once on her couch, bumping his knee with hers as she did.

The memory makes him smile. He's smiling a lot more now than before… well, before Lucy moved in across the hall.

He doesn't think anyone has ever shown him such kindness or patience whilst having the brightest of smiles. The colour of her living room walls, the lemon pie yellow, now makes sense because it's very Lucy. It's like sunshine.

But if Lucy is sunshine, what would that make him? A dark, thunderous cloud or a lone raindrop? He asked this very question in his last therapy session, after he told the professional who inspected him over the rim of her glasses, about the kiss. The kiss at her Christmas party that was perfectly innocent, it was simply them taking part in a festive tradition, but he's thought about it every day since. Like he's doing now.

Tim lies in bed, staring at the wooden beams of the cabin ceiling, his mind spinning with images of Lucy. It's late, it must be close to midnight, but sleep feels impossible. His thoughts flit between little moments: her laugh when she teased him in the gym office last week, the way she'd smiled at him over the pot of curry she was cooking them the week before that, and, of course, the kiss. The kiss under the mistletoe that he couldn't seem to forget, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was nothing.

A sharp knock at the door startles him out of his thoughts. He sits up abruptly, blinking at the sound. The knock comes again, and his confusion deepens, wondering who the hell that could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. The door is closer than it would be in his apartment, a reminder that he's not at home but on this overnight wilderness retreat with a group of freshmen. An overnight school trip that he shockingly agreed to.

His first thought is that it's one of the kids pulling a prank. He can already picture some mischievous students knocking and running back to their cabin, stifling giggles. They will be getting an earful, he decides, but when he opens the door, it's not a student. It's Lucy.

She's standing in the doorway in plaid pyjama pants and an oversized hoodie, her hair loose around her shoulders. She looks up at him with a sheepish smile. "Hey." She greets as a whisper.

Tim blinks, his exhaustion and confusion sparring with the sudden awareness of her standing there. "Hey. What's up?" He asks, his voice croaky but not from sleep.

"I don't suppose you want a room buddy for tonight?" She questions, her tone light, but there's a hint of desperation in her brown eyes.

The words take a moment to sink in, and when they do, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Uh…"

"My roommate is a snorer." She explains with a wrinkle of her nose. "Like, really loud. I tried, but I can't sleep through it."

Tim hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at the small double bed. Being the only male chaperone on the trip meant he got his own room, a rare luxury. Sharing it with anyone would be unexpected, especially Lucy. "Err… sure." He agrees, ignoring his worries, and steps aside to let her in.

"Thanks." She replies while sounding very relieved, before slipping past him into the room.

Tim closes the door behind her, suddenly hyperaware of how small the space feels with both of them inside. If she notices it, she doesn't show it, instead Lucy drops onto the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm surprised you're still up." She comments.

"Yeah… just been thinking. Overthinking." He admits, the words slipping out before he can stop them. Therapy has made him more honest, but sometimes it catches him off guard.

Lucy tilts her head, her expression softening. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Tim feels every muscle in his body tense and freeze. Therapy may have made him more honest but confessing what's been on his mind is a step too far. He can't exactly tell her that he's been thinking of her, thinking about how she kissed him, about how it made him feel things he didn't think he could feel anymore. No. That would be too much. "It's nothing." He claims and forces a small smile, hoping it reassures her.

Lucy doesn't push. "Well, if you change your mind…"

Tim nods, grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed. "I'll take the floor." He decides, gesturing towards the small space.

She frowns at this. "Don't be ridiculous. There's enough room for both of us."

He hesitates for a moment, staring at the blanket in his hands. The floor is cold, and his body at his age doesn't handle hard surfaces well anymore. He glances at Lucy, who's already stretched out on one side of the small double bed, watching him with a knowing look. "Tim…" She broaches carefully. "There's plenty of room. Just get in the bed."

He opens his mouth to argue but stops himself. She's right. It's not like he hasn't been in close quarters with someone before, though this feels entirely different. "Fine." He mutters, tossing the blanket back onto the bed. He climbs in gingerly, careful to keep as much distance between them as possible.

The bed dips slightly under his weight, and for a moment, the two of them are silent. Tim stares at the ceiling, his hands clasped over his chest, while Lucy lies on her side, facing away from him. "Is this okay?" She checks after a beat.

"Yeah… It's fine." Although his heart is racing.

They lapse into silence again, but Tim's thoughts are anything but quiet. The warmth of Lucy's presence beside him is both comforting and disarming. He's conscious of the small space between them, of the way her hair fans out on the pillow, of the faint scent of her shampoo. "I'm sorry if I've made things awkward." She says suddenly, her voice breaking the quiet.

"You haven't." Is his quick reply, as he turns his head to look at her in the dark. Thanks to the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains, he can see her outline, and how her shoulders are tense as she continues to face away from him.

"I really couldn't stay in that room. I was going to lose my cool which isn't a good look for the school counsellor."

"Lucy, I promise it's fine. Don't worry about it."

She exhales, her body relaxing slightly. "Thanks, Tim."

As the minutes tick by, the room grows quieter, the only sound the faint rustle of the wind outside. Tim tries to focus on the steady rhythm of his breathing, but his mind keeps wandering back to Lucy. To the kiss under the mistletoe. To the way she looks at him sometimes, like she sees something in him he doesn't quite see in himself. "Tim?"

Her voice startles him, and he turns his head to find her looking at him now, her face partially illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. "Yeah?"

She hesitates, her eyes searching his. "What were you overthinking earlier?"

Tim's throat tightens. He considers brushing it off, deflecting with some vague excuse, but the sincerity in her gaze makes it hard to lie. "I've just… had a lot on my mind." He admits finally but keeps it very vague.

"Like what?"

He swallows hard, his heart pounding. He could tell her the truth, about the kiss, about how much she's been on his mind, but the words feel stuck. Instead, he shakes his head. "Just stuff." It's a weak response and they both know it.

Lucy studies him for a moment but then seems to give up. "Okay."

The silence stretches between them again, but this time it feels heavier, charged with everything unsaid. Eventually, her breathing evens out, and he realises she's fallen asleep. He peers over at her, her face peaceful in the dim light, and feels a pang of something he can't quite name.

He doesn't think about it for long though as he too manages to drift off.

xxx

Tim opens his eyes but it's like his vision has a sepia filter, with the edges also blurred. It's disorientating, the whirlwind of dust, heat, and desperation. He knows where he is. He's in his bunk, in a tent back at base in Iraq. It's confusing, because although he swears it isn't real, that it can't be real, there's something niggling that makes him believe that it could be.

That's when he hears the voices.

Overlapping cries for help, voices he recognises, from his buddies, some of whom have fallen. Their voices are strained, desperate, pulling him out of his bunk and onto the gritty floor.

He tries to stand, but his legs won't work. Panic surges as he drags himself forward, clawing at the ground, the sharp edges of pebbles digging into his palms. The tent flap feels miles away, and the voices grow louder, merging into a cacophony of need.

"Help us, Bradford!"

"Don't leave us!"

"You could've saved me!"

The words pierce his heart like shrapnel. He grits his teeth, muscles straining as he pulls himself forward inch by agonising inch. But then the voices shift. They become one voice.

Lucy's voice. "Tim! Please, help me!"

His breath hitches, his body trembling as he redoubles his efforts. "Lucy!" He shouts hoarsely. He drags himself harder, faster, ignoring the burn in his arms and the ache in his chest. He's so close, yet his goal is getting further and further away. "Lucy!" He screams again.

The world around him begins to crumble, the edges of the tent dissolving into darkness. He thrashes, desperate to reach her, to save her, but the darkness consumes him.

Suddenly, Tim jolts awake, his chest heaving and his face damp with sweat. He's befuddled, his heart pounding as he gasps for air. "Tim…" A quiet voice says beside him, and he turns his head sharply to see Lucy sitting up, her hand gently stroking his arm. Her brown eyes are wide with concern, her expression tender. The bedside lamp has been switched on making him realise that she was obviously trying to rouse him. "It's okay. You're okay."

Tim's throat tightens, and he feels tears threatening to spill over. His body trembles, torn between wanting to collapse into her comforting presence and the overwhelming urge to hide. "I'm sorry." He chokes out, barely audible before sitting up and running a shaky hand through his damp hair.

"You don't have to apologise." Lucy says firmly, her hand still on his arm. "It's okay to have demons."

He shakes his head, his jaw tightening. "You must think I'm so messed up." He sniffs, not hiding his shame.

"No." She states quickly with full conviction. "I think you're incredible."

"Lucy…"

"I mean it." She continues, her gaze unwavering. "You're strong, courageous, kind, generous, and an all-round good guy."

Tim lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head again, not quite believing her yet. "I'm screwed up."

"Aren't we all?" She counters.

Her words catch him off guard, and when he meets her stare, he sees something in her eyes, something vulnerable, raw, and honest. It's that look that makes him want to spill the truth he's been holding back. "Earlier…" He begins hesitantly. "When I said I was overthinking…"

"Tim." She interrupts gently. "You don't need to do this now. We can-"

"I was overthinking about you." He blurts out, cutting her off. Lucy's eyes widen slightly, her hand still resting on his arm, but he feels how it tenses. "I can't stop thinking about you." He continues, his voice trembling. "About the way you make me feel… safe, seen, like I'm not just this broken mess."

"Tim…" She whispers his name with tears in her eyes.

"I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to ruin this – whatever this is between us." He stresses. "But I can't keep it in anymore and you deserve to hear the truth."

Lucy's lips part as if she's about to say something, but instead, she leans forward, her hand moving from his arm to his cheek. Her touch is warm, grounding, and Tim feels some of the tension leave him as her thumb brushes away a stray tear. "You're not broken." She whispers, hoping it gets through to him.

For a moment, neither of them speaks, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions. The way she looks at him, like he's more than his scars, his past, his mistakes, makes his heart pound in a way he hasn't felt in years. "Lucy…" He whispers, the word barely audible.

She leans in slightly, her eyes searching his, as if asking for permission. His breath catches, and for a moment, the world around them falls away. It's just her, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the cabin window catching the strands of her hair, the faint scent of her shampoo filling the space between them.

Tim's mind races. He knows he shouldn't, knows he's treading into dangerous territory, but he can't help it. He leans forward, just a fraction, their faces so close now that he can feel the warmth of her breath.

But before their lips can meet, the moment shatters with the sound of laughter and running footsteps outside.

The spell is broken, and they both jerk back slightly, startled. "Are they serious right now?" Lucy groans, her hand dropping from his cheek as she glances towards the door. "It's like three o'clock in the morning."

Tim exhales sharply, the tension in his chest loosening just enough for him to think clearly again. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to collect himself. "This is why I hate overnight school trips." He mutters.

Lucy sighs, her lips quirking into a small, rueful smile. "I should probably go see what they're up to before they wake everyone else."

He nods, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between them, even if part of him aches at the loss of her closeness. "Yeah, you should… uh, handle that."

She looks at him for a beat longer, her expression completely blank and unreadable. "We'll talk later, okay? I'll leave your door unlocked if that's alright? So you can get back into bed."

"Sure." He replies, but it comes out quieter than he intended.

Lucy stands, smoothing her hands over her pyjama pants, and heads for the door. Before she steps out, she pauses and glances back at him, her smile warm but tinged with something he can't quite place.

As the door closes behind her, Tim slumps back against the pillows, his heart still racing. He stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotion. One minute he was waking up on the brink of a panic attack and the next he's about to kiss Lucy. Lucy who is his neighbour and his co-worker.

What the hell was he thinking?

The sound of the students' laughter fades into the distance, but the echo of Lucy's touch and the near kiss lingers. Tim closes his eyes, exhaling slowly as he tries to calm his racing mind.

He knows he's already in too deep, but for the first time in a long time, he's not sure he wants to pull himself out.