Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I don't want to know what it's like to live without you, don't want to know the other side of a world without you..." 

They'd fought. It wasn't the first time, it definitely wouldn't be the last, but it was the worst fight that they'd had in the months since their relationship started. 

As Tim drove down the darkened roads, the only light provided coming from his headlights and the occasional street lamp that he passed, he kept thinking of all the ways that he could've handled things better, how he could've made sure that he knew that he just needed a little space, a little time, but instead he left. 

He'd left so that he wouldn't say something that he'd regret, but still he was full of nothing but regret. He had left her there, and the look of pure disappointment and hurt on her face would be one that would haunt his dreams tonight, that was for sure. 

Especially because he was all but certain that he wouldn't be welcomed into Lucy's bed tonight, not even if Lucy said it was okay. He would have a hell of a time 

convincing Tamara that he was welcome there, and he couldn't blame her. He didn't deserve to be there. Not tonight. He deserved the loneliness. 

Why had he even gotten so freaking angry? What was the point in fighting with her? Why was the anger even necessary? 

Tim's fist slammed against the steering wheel just as he turned into the driveway of his building, turning the keys in the ignition and shutting off the engine. 

His eyes slammed shut and he worried his head with his fists, before reaching for his phone. 

Zero phone calls, zero texts. 

He can't say he expected anything different. 

Lucy felt sick, tears streaming down her face as she leant against her car door. Her hands were shaking too much to open it, and the biting cold wasn't helping as her whole body shivered. 

He'd been so mad. Lucy had never seen Tim so angry before. 

Okay, that was a lie, she had. But never at her before. 

Shaking her head, Lucy finally opened her car door, climbing inside and starting the vehicle to drive home. 

The knowing that she'd be sleeping in bed alone for the first night in months made her stomach ache, and fresh tears spring to her eyes that she fought to hold back. 

With a heavy sigh, Lucy swiped under eyes harshly before backing out of the lot of the station. 

Her attention was skewed. She knew that. But she didn't think it was altered enough for her to completely miss the signals of another driving incoming, going at least fifteen miles over the speed limit, the driver's eyes visible in the little bit of light that their headlights and the street lamps provided - he was definitely on something. 

Her attention was elsewhere, her mind on the argument with Tim, and that was exactly why she didn't notice just how quickly the car was approaching hers. Not until it was too late. 

Not until it was ramming into her car, the drivers side - her side - taking the impact. 

Lucy's head bounced hard against the window, leaving a pronounced crack in the glass in its wake, the seatbelt crushing hard against her ribs, cutting into her skin. 

Her eyes were squeezed tight shut, breathing shallowly to avoid the intense pain in her chest and ribs. 

Lucy's entire body was a fiery pit of pain, and she could hear the quick footfalls presumably coming from the car that had just hit her. 

"Miss, are you okay? Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't even see the car coming I-" His voice cut off as Lucy's head lolled towards the sound, his garbled words the last thing that she heard before her vision went black. 

Tim had taken a shower, scrubbing angrily at his skin until it was red and raw, the pain of his taut skin nothing in comparison to the pain he felt inside right now after his argument with Lucy. 

He'd cooked, but as he flipped the stove off and pulled the meal out of the oven, he realised that not only had he cooked Lucy's favourite meal, he'd cooked enough for three portions. 

It was like a roundhouse kick to the chest. 

When he laid down into bed, uncomfortable without the warmth of his person beside him, he finally decided that he needed to man up and check his phone, immediately and somewhat unconsciously noting that it had been a little over an hour since he'd left Lucy in that parking lot, his body vibrating with a mixture of anger and regret, and immediately wondered if it was too soon to text her, or call her, to apologise, to make things right. 

Tim couldn't stand the pit in his stomach for much longer. It was swallowing him whole, and all he wanted was to have Lucy wrapped up in the safety of his arms like she usually would be at this time of night. 

With a sigh, Tim opened up Lucy's contact profile, just as a call came in. 

It was the hospital. 

Nausea immediately revolted him. 

"Hello?" He said, sitting up, his spine ramrod straight. 

A crackling sound came over the speakers, followed by the shuffling of papers. "Hi, is this a Mr. Timothy Bradford?" 

He absentmindedly nodded, despite being fully aware that the person on the other line couldn't see his cue of agreement. "Yes, this is. May I ask who's calling?" 

"This is Caiomhe, I'm calling from Shaw Memorial. You're listed as the emergency contact for a patient that was just brought in." 

Tim's heart immediately dropped into his boots. He was the emergency contact for three people - and they were all the three most important people in his life: Genny, Angela, and Lucy. 

Any of them being hurt would floor him, but after that argument...Please, God, don't let it be Lucy. 

He realised then that he had yet to respond. "Yes, I'm the emergency contact for three people that live in this area. Is it possible for you to be more specific as to who you're calling me about?" 

Tim held his breath as he awaited a response. 

"It looks like it was a Miss Lucy Chen that was brought in about half an hour ago, sir." Caoimhe replied, and Tim immediately silently heaved, though nothing came up. "Sir?" The receptionist prompted after another prolonged silence came from his end of the line. 

"Yes, I'm here, sorry." He blurted, his voice quivering. "Is-what happened? Is she okay?" 

Caoimhe sighed. "I'm afraid I only know the basics, sir." 

"That's enough, I just need to know if," his voice broke before he could even finish the sentence. 

He needed to know if she was still alive and, if she was, how critically injured she was. 

"Of course, sir." There was the muted sound of tapping at a keyboard, before Caoimhe started again. "It looks as though Miss Chen was brought in via ambulance after a motor vehicle accident. All that I'm able to access as a receptionist from her file is that she's in critical condition and was taken straight into theatre." 

Critical condition. Surgery. Fuck. 

"Is there really nothing else that you can tell me?" Tim asked, his voice bordering on a beg, but he also recognised that he had become unnecessarily clipped to the receptionist who was only doing her job - and she was doing it very well, if he was being completely honest. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I'm just-" 

Caoimhe interrupted him. "It's okay, I understand. The only other note that I can see in her file is allergies and that she'd previously been admitted following oxygen deprivation, dehydration and superficial wounds requiring sutures. I wish there was more information that I could offer you, sir." 

Tim swallowed, thickly. "Thank you." He paused. "I'll be there in ten." 

He couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck that the hospital was over twenty minutes away from his place - he had a police car, he had a siren, and he was not above breaking some traffic laws. 

Not tonight. Not to get to her. Not for Lucy. 

He threw a shirt and sweatpants on before legging it to his car, the engine starting and the sirens immediately switched on.  

Tim reached for the bluetooth handset, knowing he needed one person for this. He needed his best friend. He needed Angela. 

He knew that, at this time of night, she was probably curled up with Wesley after both kids were put to bed, but he couldn't bring himself to care. 

All he could think or care about was the fact that Lucy was critically injured, that he felt like it was all his fault, and that he needed his best friend's logic, her brains and her heart, to guide him through this, otherwise it was going to break him. 

In all honesty, it felt almost as though it already had. 

"Tim?" Angela asked when she picked up, only two rings in. Her voice was sleepy, and a small sliver of guilt wormed it's way into his gut before his brain conjured up the unwanted image of Lucy's body smashed inside of a car, her bleeding heavily, her on an operating table. "Tim, what's going on?" She repeated when she realised that all she could hear was the heavy breathing on the other line, and the sirens. 

Tim took a shaky breath, removing one hand from the steering wheel to place it on his chest, right above his heart, pressing down hard as if to steady himself. "Ange," his voice broke immediately, "I need you."

Angela's voice immediately switched from sleepy and relaxed to cop mode. "Tim, what's going on? What happened? Talk me through it." 

She knew that Tim wouldn't call at this time of night if it weren't for something serious and that, quite frankly, terrified her just a little. 

"Me and Lucy, we-we got into a huge argument. I drove ho-to my place," he couldn't in good faith call it 'home' anymore, because home wasn't there. Not now. Or, at least, not typically. Home to him was wherever Lucy was. "It was all my fault. I got angry, I shouldn't have, but I just got a call from the hospital and she was in a car accident, Ange. I'm on the way to the hospital now but-" 

"Okay, I'll be there soon, okay? Try to breathe. This is Lucy, remember. What do you always say?" Angela coached, gently. 

Tim let out a weak, rattling breath that physically hurt. "Chen's got no quit in her." 

"Exactly. She's not going to tap out that easily." Angela paused, hating the way that she could hear her best friend's sniffles, the pain in his voice, how erratic his breathing was. "Is there anything you need me to do?" 

Tim immediately felt like a complete idiot. "Tamara. She-uh, she needs to know. I didn't even think , but she needs to know." 

"Wes will go over and tell her, take care of her until you know that Lucy's stable, okay? She doesn't need to see you breaking down, and you don't need to be holding back these feelings. Me and Wes will get it sorted. I'll call Nolan and Harper, ask one of them to let everyone else know. Do you want them to wait with us at the hospital?" 

Tim shook his head. "No, I," he paused, gasping for air. 

"Breathe, Tim. You need to breathe. You're useless to her if you get into a wreck yourself because you're not focusing enough on something as simple as breathing." Angela told him, her voice stern but not harsh in the slightest. 

Tim finally took a slightly less shuddering and deep breath. "I don't want anyone else there other than you. I can't console everyone else right now, Ange, not when I'm hanging on by a fraying bit of rope that is about to fucking break apart." 

"Okay, okay." She soothed. "How far are you from the hospital?" 

"I'm pulling into the parking lot now." Tim replied. 

"Do you want me to stay on the line while you ask for updates or-"

Tim immediately replied. "No, I- I think I can handle that. Just...get here as soon as you can, please? I really need you." 

Angela felt sick. She'd never heard Tim like this before. Not with Isabel, and not even when Lucy had been taken by Caleb. 

This was a whole new bed of water that they were treading, and she was becoming increasingly unsure of if her usual 'calming Bradford down' notebook checklist would work this time around. Still, she had to try. She wouldn't let him break. She couldn't let him break. 

"Okay, I'll be there ASAP." She paused. "Remember, Tim. Breathe. She's got no quit in her, okay? Lucy's gonna find a way to pull through. Believe in that, believe in her. You hear me? You make sure you believe in her." 

Tim's voice cracked. "Thanks, Ange. I'll see you soon." He quickly ended the call, racing to the ER entrance as soon as he'd launched the drivers side door open. 

He located the reception desk with ease - he'd been here enough times now that it had almost become second nature. 

"I'm Officer Timothy Bradford, I got a call about ten to fifteen minutes ago to tell me that a patient of yours was taken into surgery following a motor vehicle accident." He recalled, his voice surprisingly stable as he slipped into officer mode. 

The receptionist nodded, prodding at the keys on the keyboard splayed out in front of her. "Well, I'm Caoimhe, we spoke on the phone. I don't have any more news that I'm personally able to give you unfortunately, but I have paged a doctor from the team that was listed to be working on her when she was brought, in before was taken into surgery, to come over and brief you on her injuries. Is there any other questions you have, anything that you need?" 

Tim nodded, before sinking into one of the uncomfortable emergency room waiting area chairs, scrubbing his hands over his face, rough with stubble and deep, dark bags under his eyes that he was almost certain had become a permanent fixture on his face at this point. 

Within ten minutes of sitting down, a doctor walked over to the reception area, Tim not even noticing that the receptionist was directing the doctor towards him. 

"Officer Bradford?" An unfamiliar voice asked, snapping Tim out of his haze immediately. 

His words, however, remained to fail him and so he could only respond with a small nod. 

"I'm Dr. Louis, I was one of the ER doctors that initially worked to stabilised Miss Chen before they took her into surgery. I'm of the belief that you're looking for more information on her injuries and her current status?" He asked. 

Tim, once again, could only bring himself to weakly nod, his entire body flooded with intense fatigue, a foggy brain and hands that wouldn't stop trembling. 

Shock, he realised absentmindedly. He was in shock. 

That wasn't exactly unexpected given this situation, though. 

Dr. Louis started talking once again, giving Tim even just a snippet of the information that h'd been yearning for for what felt like a lifetime, but in reality had been just over an hour since he received the call. 

"When Ms. Chen was brought in, she was unconscious but breathing. Her vitals were very concerning - she had critically, low blood pressure, a high heart rate at 156 and her oxygen saturation was at 91, so she was put on oxygen immediately. 

There was a fair amount of external bleeding that were coming from three main and relatively major wounds - one on her head that we believe has resulted in a moderate concussion, a jagged and rather deep wound on her abdomen and a large shard of glass stuck in her right thigh. Her other external injuries are a broken leg, which has been broken in four places, a sprained wrist and whiplash. 

We were ordered to do an ultrasound which showed an alarming amount of free fluid in her abdomen. Further imaging also showed that, alongside her external injuries, she also has several broken chest bones and ribs that has seemingly, though I don't know for definite as I'm no longer a part of her medical team, clipped a large vessel and caused an extreme amount of internal bleeding. 

As of right now, she has been in surgery for an hour and a half, and the surgeons are just closing her up and getting her settled into intensive care - they thought that heading straight to a closed ICU room would be more conducive for healing than moving her from recovery to ICU, as she'll receive the same level of care in intensive care as Ms. Chen would in recovery. Once she's settled, the surgeon will be by to explain her current status and the full extent of her injuries. I wish I could've done more and offer you more information." Dr Louis said apologetically. 

Tim shook his head in pure adamance. "No, please don't apologise. You've given me far more information than I expected to receive until she was out of surgery, and I really cannot thank you enough for that." He had no idea how he had managed to school his voice into his normal stoic voice, the same tone that he would always use on Lucy when he was her training officer. 

As soon as the doctor had left him to his own devices, Tim's head fell into his hands. He had no clue how long he sat there in the busy quietness of the emergency waiting room, but it wasn't until Angela sat next to him, her hand gently grasping his that he finally registered someone other than Lucy, that he finally registered the world around him instead of everything that he wish he could've done differently, all the things he wishes he could've said to her instead of what he did. 

"Ange-" Tim started, his eyes reaching here immediately, but his sentence broken. 

Her heart immediately split into two at the grief, the rage, the pain, the inexplicable guilt in his eyes. 

"Tim, this isn't your fault." She started, to which Tim shook his head stubbornly. "No, Tim. This isn't your fault. This isn't like with Caleb."

He let his head fall backwards, gently knocking against the wall as he shook his head backwards and forwards. "Yeah, it's not like Caleb, Angela. This time it was me that hurt her. Not some psychopath that we can arrest and put to trial, me. The person that loves her. How the hell can I ever forgive myself for that? How can she ever forgive me for that?"

Angela sighed, knowing full well that her words of comfort weren't needed right now. Tim didn't need her to assuage his guilt, he needed her to understand it...and she did. 

She didn't agree that this was his fault, but if the cards were reversed and it was Wesley? Well, she'd feel the exact same. 

So, instead Angela gave Tim's hand a quick, affirming squeeze, a small smile before saying. "I don't know how she'll forgive you, but I do know that she will. She loves you-" 

"She shouldn't." Tim interrupted, his voice low and quivering. 

Angela sighed, shaking her head at her sullen best friend. "Be it as that may, it's not your decision to make. She has chosen to love you in the capacity that you deserve, and you do Tim. You deserve to be loved the way that Lucy loves you. So all that you can do is, when she pulls through this, you make sure you know that you were being a stubborn little shit like you always are, and you love her." 

"We've not," he gulped, "we've not said that to each other. Not yet." 

Angela smiled at him. "Well, this'll be the perfect moment then, won't it?" 

With that, they waited in peaceful silence until one of the nurses came to escort Tim into Lucy's ICU room. 

She was attached to so many machines. He'd seen this before, he'd been here before, but this felt so much worse. God, he just needed her to wake up and be okay. 

"I know the machines and wires are a little alarming." The nurse said, gently. "But she's doing remarkably well considering. She might be a little bit slower to wake because she tried to wake up during surgery. A tough little thing she is." 

Tim coughed out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "She is. She really is." 

And she's mine. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat in the room in complete silence, the only noises were the machines she was attached to, Tim's hand pressed tightly into Lucy's, at this point - all he knew was that two nurses had already come by to check on her, retake her vitals. 

They kept reassuring him that she was stable, and that surgery was a complete success. That she'd be awake within the next 12 to 24 hours, and that she could released home - barring any unforeseen circumstances - within 7 to 10 days, but it still never felt enough. 

He cleared his throat, squeezing her hand just that little bit tighter as he opened his mouth to finally break the heavy silence. "I'm so sorry." He started. "This never would've happened if I hadn't been so stubborn, so pompous. I get so far into my head that I give myself reasons to give up, and I hate that about me because, Lu, I never want to give you up. I won't give you up. I refuse."

When Tim finally reached the point of no return when it came to his exhaustion, he still couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. 

It had always been difficult for him to sleep since the military, but sleeping next to Lucy? Well, that made the nightmares lessen, easier to come back from, easier to cope with. 

Tim took a cursory glance at the door that remained shut tightly, the blinds pulled together so that no one could see in or out, before he looked at down at the time on his phone. 

2.39am. 

He took another sweep of the room, the cop in him coming out in spades, before he carelessly toed off his shoes, shucking his jacket off and placing it haphazardly on the uncomfortable chair before doing something he probably shouldn't be doing. 

But, at this point, he couldn't care less. To hell with protocol, fuck the rules. 

He needed to be with her in a way that just seeing her with his eyes could offer him. He needed to touch her in a way that holding her hand couldn't satisfy him...and so he carefully pulled himself up onto the rattling, obscenely small hospital bed, curving his body around Lucy's as though he had suddenly become her personal human shield. 

Tears leaked from his eyes, the taste of salt hitting his lips as he buried his head into her hair, his arms wrapped gently around her waist, one hand and two fingers resting gently on the pulse point in her wrist. 

He knew that the monitors that she was attached to should've been reassurance that he needed, but it wasn't. He needed to feel her pulse with his own hands, he needed to be able to confirm her still being alive by himself. 

Tim inhaled, Lucy's scent somewhere between smoke, dried blood, the distinct sterile scent of hospital and there, deep down as he buried his head into her hair even further, was the scent that he had grown used to since the moment he was assigned to her as her TO.

It was the beautiful scent of her, of his Lucy. 

That scent, the pulsing underneath his fingertips, the beating of the monitors around him and the light whooshing of the oxygen machine that Lucy was attached to was enough to finally lull Tim to sleep, his girl tucked carefully in his arms. 

He was never, ever going to let her go ever again. Arguments, disagreements be damned. He'd fight with her forever and a day if it meant that she was by his side for all that time. He loved her enough for that. He would fight for her tooth and nail every day for the rest of his life if she'd have him. 

Lucy Chen was Tim Bradford's forever...and now all he needed was for her to wake up so that he could tell her just that.  

Chapter Text

"You were there to pick me up, and tell me I was good enough. It doesn't matter what I've done, you pull me closer. The highs and lows and in-betweens, you're the one that's there for me; when I hurt and when I bleed, you make it better...you make it better. You will always be, you will always be, the one that I can call, the safest place to fall for me when I can't stand..."

The first time, he was so startled by how painful and unbearably still it was to see her lying in an uncomfortable hospital mattress with the lumpy pillows, but this wasn't just like any other times. 

Because it had now been 11 hours and since they'd last seen a nurse or a doctor and, even though Tim was half asleep still himself, he was very much gearing to write a scathing complaint to the hospital. 

It wasn't long after this that he'd his body around Lucy's own, drifting to sleep with the comfort of Lucy's gentle pulse against his fingertips. 

Lucy came to in a fog, her memories covered in cobwebs, and the only thing she could feel was pain. 

Oh, god. So much pain - inexplicable pain. 

It was all that she could register: the frighteningly severe pain that had her gasping desperately for hair hungrily. 

Was she dying? God, this must be what dying feels like. Surely.   

The first shift and noise that alerted Tim to Lucy slowly rousing was the soft groan escaping her lips, now a soft rose in comparison to what they were when he'd first her. 

They were almost a milky white and, while they weren't quite up their normal rosy beauty, the colour, the curve, the feel of her natural lips had always been one of his favourite parts of her body. 

After five bags of blood, she was finally starting to look a little bit more like his Lucy. 

He slammed the cover of his book, immediately standing over her prone, still frozen in time, body watching for any sort of further movement. 

Tim sighed, lightly stroking the backs of her hand with his fingers, willing the tears to fade from his vision...and that was when he heard it again: a pained groan. 

It felt masochistic to say, but he had never been more glad to see and hear Lucy in pain. 

Her tongue darted out to wet her almost painfully dry lips, but her mouth lacked the wetness necessary. 

There it was. Finally. Something that Tim could help with. 

He fumbled clumsily with the water pitcher, filling the plastic cup with the clear liquid. 

Tim gently squeezed Lucy's hand, rousing her slightly. 

"Open your mouth a little bit, sweetheart." He urged gently, and when she immediately complied, he lifted the cup to her lips and tilted the liquid into her throat. 

She spluttered for a moment, scaring the living shit out of Tim, before her throat remembered how to work. 

The water making its way down her rough, scratchy and sore throat gave way to a little bit more alertness, which also meant a whole lot more pain. 

With far too much effort, Lucy managed to crack one eye open, her vision immediately landing on a clearly exhausted and deflated Tim Bradford. 

"Hi." She croaked, and with that single word, that one singular syllable, his entire person transformed, a smile gracing his beautiful face. 

Tim leant forward, his hand gently caressing her face. "Hi, baby. How are you feeling?" 

She paused, closing her eyes again, swallowing a little bit more easily this time around. "Ow?" 

He let out a weak laugh. "I'm not surprised, baby. I'm going to get the nurse, okay? They need to know you're awake." 

Nurse? Lucy thought. Oh. She was in the hospital. 

It all came rushing back to her then. 

Their argument. Him leaving. Her breaking down. The car travelling towards her at a breakneck speed. The instant overwhelming pain. The exhaustion. The yearning for Tim, to see him, to be there with him. The feeling like she was going to die. The blacking out. The waking up during surgery only to be put right back out. It was all there - it had all come back to her full force. 

The nurse went as quickly as she had come, only doing a quick vitals and bandage check and showing her how to use her PCP before informing her that her doctor and surgeon would be coming to see her in the coming hours, but she was healing well, and then the room was plunged into silence. 

Tim had stood in the corner of the room the entire time, looming over them all like some menacing figure from a horror movie, and even after the nurse had left, he had barely moved a muscle. 

He shuffled his feet forward a little, hands stuffed deep down in his pockets, his head bowed. 

Finally, his sigh broke the silence, followed by their sudden mixture of the exact same sentiment. 

"I'm so sorry." 

Tim looked up then, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, so confused as to why she was apologising. 

"Why are you sorry?" He asked. 

Lucy shrugged, grimacing at the pain it caused, trying to move into a position that wouldn't aggravate her apparently many, many injuries - both internal and external. 

According to her nurse, she had been incredibly close to losing a part of her lung. The thought alone sent chills down her spine. 

"Are you cold?" Tim asked, immediately on alert as her body shook a little, goosebumps evident on her skin. 

He didn't even give her a chance to respond before he was pulling off his jacket, draping it around her arms. 

Lucy closed her eyes, inhaling the scent that calmed her, the scent that she recognised as home. 

This time, Tim sank back down into the hospital chair, his hand finding its rightful place within her own. 

"So, why are you apologising, baby?" He asked, softly. 

Lucy sighed. "You were really mad. I was mad, too. We argued, and we're both at fault for that. I shouldn't have said what I did about Isabel, it was wrong and unfair and I feel horrible about it and-"

He shook his head hard. "No, you were right. I was projecting the fear and trauma that I have as a result of Isabel onto you, and that wasn't - isn't - fair. You don't deserve that." Tim paused, breathing in shakily. "I don't need you to apologise for being right. I, however, need to apologise for being stupid, for leaving you. This wouldn't have happened otherwise and-" 

Tim couldn't continue, his voice choked as tears streamed down his face. 

"Oh, honey." Lucy whispered, squeezing his hand. "Couples fight. It's natural. Our fights are harder because our relationship is a lot harder due to the nature of our jobs. We have the stress of the job, our home life, all of it, on our backs. Sometimes we're going to take it out on each other, it's natural. It sucks, sure, but that's what happens when you lo-" she cut herself off short. 

They hadn't said that before, and she certainly didn't want to say it only for him to say it back to assuage his disconcerted guilt. 

"That's what happens when you love someone." Tim slowly finished for her. "And I do, by the way. I do love you. This isn't a guilt thing, this is a real thing. I love you, Luce. That's real." 

Lucy's eyes teared up, tugging lightly, weakly, at his hand to bring him closer to him. 

He immediately shifted forwards, his forehead gently resting atop hers. 

"I love you too." She whispered. "I love you so much that it scares me, that sometimes I have to pinch myself to remind myself that it's real."

Tim swallowed thickly. "Lucy Chen, I love you." He repeated. "I love you. That's real. We breathe in air, the sky is blue, the grass is green, we all die in the end, and I love you." He sighed. "I can't believe I almost lost you without telling you that. I can't believe I almost lost you while letting you believe that I didn't-" 

"Hey," she interrupted, her eyes finding his, "I never thought that your feelings had changed about me, Tim. Honey, listen to me, we're going to fight and that's okay. But just come back to me, okay?" 

Tim let out a choked sound. "I should be the one saying that. I'm not the one that almost died ."

She smiled painfully, tiredly at him and it was like a salve to all of his wounds. "But I didn't." 

His tired smile matched hers. "No, no you didn't." 

"I think that means you have to put up with me for a little bit longer though, I'm afraid. Do you think you can manage that?" Lucy teased. 

A broad smile broke out across Tim's face for the first time in the past 18 hours. "There's nothing that I'd rather do than put up with you for as long as you'll have me, Luce. I want all of the days with you, all of the fights, all of the highs and the lows and the in betweens. So, yes. I can manage that." 

"That's good because that's exactly what I want, too." She whispered, just before his lips met hers in a tender kiss. 

And, just like that, they were whole again.