Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Via, via, vieni via con me
Entra in questo amore buio
Non perderti per niente al mondo
Via, via, non perderti per niente al mondo
Lo spettacolo d'arte varia
Di uno innamorato di te

It's wonderful, It's wonderful, It's wonderful
Good luck my baby
It's wonderful, It's wonderful, It's wonderful
I dream of you

Every flight of stairs has exactly twelve steps.

Every main hallway has five large non-slip tiles. The smaller hallways have three.

Tim has paced every inch of the hospital where he was allowed to pace. Every nook and cranny is no secret to him anymore. He has walked on every tile and every hallway in this section of Shaw Memorial in the past few hours, while he waited for Lucy to get checked out.

After the rush of digging her up in the desert, the adrenaline still hasn't left him and, while he was able to change out of his uniform an hour or so ago thanks to Angela, his fighting stance doesn't give any signs of diminishing.

Not until he knows Lucy is okay.

His nerves are frayed, but he can't stop until he knows his Boot is going to be fine. Until he can hear her breathe again, and maybe squeeze her hand, just to make sure she's warm and responsive. He wants to hear her endless chat in the shop again, her streams of questions and personal facts that he had never allowed within the confines of his police vehicle, and yet, with her, it had always given him comfort.

Maybe it’s because her voice could drown out the darkness in his mind, maybe because her questions have kept him on his toes. This time, he's not on the other side of the ER bay like on Chen’s second day when he got shot, and he dreads waiting one more minute for the doctors to come out and tell him how she is.

He's expecting bruised. Scratched. Battered. Hurt. He truly hopes this hasn't killed her spirit, though. Her brightness. Her zest. Her sunshine.

He had sat in the waiting room for the first half hour, still too stunned to move, with dirt on his uniform and under his fingernails, his body feeling sweaty and battered, his mind sleep-deprived and yet working a mile a minute. 

Angela and Jackson had joined him after one hour, probably after sorting out all the paperwork and the questions they would surely ask him when he became more coherent. Angela had brought him clothes, and Jackson had brought a duffel bag for Lucy. It looks like the go-bag she keeps in her locker at the station. 

Angela had forced him to clean up and change out of his uniform and, thanks to a complicit nurse who let him use the bathroom in Lucy’s room, he even found a shower to rinse the desert off him. He felt marginally better after that, but he tried to be as efficient as possible while fixing up his appearance, meeting his eyes in the fogged-up mirror only to comb his hair. 

His hair had dried by hour three, but Lucy was still under testing, and nothing changed until hours four and five. 

After five and a half hours, when the sky is already black and Tim has no idea what time it truly is, a doctor comes by to talk to him. Only then does Tim notice that Jackson had stuck around, since he was standing up straight two chairs down from his own in the waiting room. 

“Family of Lucy Chen?” The doctor asks, looking around. 

“I’m her emergency contact; her parents are on their way back from Sonoma,” Jackson says, his voice somber but eager. He’s not wearing his uniform either, and he looks ready to run in whichever direction Lucy is. “It’s okay if Officer Bradford hears, too. They’re partners on the job. She’d want him to be in the loop,” Jackson adds, and Tim exhales a deep, relieved breath. He needs to know how Lucy is firsthand. 

Tim hears every single word of the doctor when the man starts talking, but he has a hard time processing things like “contusions”, “abrasions”, “mild concussion”, and “no internal bleeding” after the doctor mentions “no signs of sexual assault”. He’s not able to connect them to Lucy just yet; he hopes Jackson is taking notes as her medical proxy. At this point, he just needs to see that Lucy is okay. 

“I can take you to her if you’d like,” the doctor says, and before he knows it, they’re following the guy in scrubs through a couple of doors and corridors to her room. 

When Lucy appears in his line of sight, something in Tim’s chest unknots. She looks asleep, and he remembers the doctor mentioning that she would be asleep for a little longer since they had to sedate her for the MRI, but he can see monitors beeping and her chest rising and falling rhythmically. His knees wobble imperceptibly, but he manages to plop down on an uncomfortable plastic chair near Lucy’s bed anyway. 

Jackson holds Lucy’s hand, but Tim can’t bring himself to move closer. The first time he held his rookie, she was traumatized and in the middle of a panic attack, and he’s not sure if his presence here is welcomed or a trigger, so he’ll keep his distance for now. Yet, he can’t bring himself to leave. 

“I’ll go get a bite to eat while we wait for her to wake up. Fuel up, like they suggested,” Jackson says, and Tim realizes the doctor has left the room, probably a while ago, too. “Would you like anything?”

“A small sandwich is fine, I’m not hungry. Get a veggie burger with fries – extra pickles. For Chen,” he rattles out her order by rota, and Jackson looks mildly surprised. Tim hands him a wad of cash, probably more than what Jackson needs for their dinner, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll be back soon,” Jackson says, a solemn look on his face. “You’re staying here, right?”

“Of course,” Tim replies, knowing there’s nowhere else he needs to be for the time being. “I’ll text you if anything changes.”

Jackson nods, his face still tight, still unable to relax, just like Tim feels his body unable to fully be calm and collected until he can meet Lucy’s eyes, hear her voice tease him, and see her sunshine smile.

The room plunges into silence again, broken only by the beeping of the machines and Lucy’s steady breaths. It’s soothing, and Tim feels his energy slowly drain out of him the more he sits there, and all the sleep he missed in the past couple of nights catches up with him. 

He doesn’t want to lose focus, but his body apparently decides it’s time to switch off the batteries, and, before he can stop it, he’s asleep, his head leaning against the wall and his body bent at an awkward angle. 

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Tim is startled by the click of the door, his senses on alert as he turns to see Jackson coming back into the room. He exchanges a nod with the young rookie, watching as he takes a seat on his left, but not before he drops a paper bag with the logo of Lucy’s favorite burger place on the tray table. 

“I tipped with the rest of the money you gave me,” Jackson says, almost making Tim smile. 

“Thank you. Chen will appreciate that.”

There’s more silence as Jackson settles next to Tim, picking up the copy of Teen Rebel that was already on the chair with a puzzled look.

“I found this in the lobby. This hospital is short on reading materials. I needed to keep my hands busy,” Tim says, almost to justify his need to keep his mind off the fact that Lucy is coming out of sedation after being poked and prodded and sent into all sorts of testing machines for the last few hours. 

Tim is hopeful the drugs will make her forget about most of this last part of the ordeal because he’s sure it’ll take him a long time to get over the way her unconscious body had felt in his arms before he had to breathe life into her again. 

“Any changes?” Jackson asks, breaking the silence with his whisper. 

“The doctor came in to check on her and said sedation is wearing off and she’ll wake up soon.” Tim sighs as he whispers in response. He is eagerly waiting to see her eyes lock with his once more and get lost in the hues of brown there.

“Anything else about her injuries?” 

“They’re still waiting for the results of some blood tests for infections; they’ll update us when she’s awake so they can tell her directly. They did confirm her ankle was twisted and she has a few contusions and abrasions, but nothing too serious so far.”

“Good.”

Jackson nods in understanding, falling silent again. 

From a physical point of view, Lucy was lucky. They are monitoring her status because she had been unconscious, dehydrated, and oxygen-deprived, but her body held up pretty well to the kidnapping and attempted murder. 

Tim has to take a deep breath and deviate from his thoughts: if he starts categorizing all the many different ways Lucy could have died in the past few days, he might have a panic attack. And all because he suggested she get a drink after a tough case. 

“Sir, if you need to take a break…” Jackson interrupts Tim’s thoughts, bringing him back to reality.

“I’m not moving, West. And no need to be so formal. I’m not here as a TO.”

Tim wins a puzzled look from Jackson, then a nod. 

“I want to help Lucy get through this, get back into being one of my best rookies, and finish her training,” he adds, almost as a justification for his words.

“Okay. So I can count you in as backup while she recovers?”

“Yes. I’m at her six for whatever she needs.”

“Okay…Tim,” Jackson says, then grimaces. “Okay, nope. I’ll settle for Bradford.”

Tim smirks before he goes back to skimming through Teen Rebel, as Jackson makes his way back outside, claiming he really needs to get some water after the greasy burger he just ate, and then hit the restroom. 

Tim really doesn’t mind sitting vigil at Lucy’s bedside until she wakes up. He ignores the burger a little longer, focusing on Lucy instead.  

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The hospital only allows two visitors at a time, so when Rachel shows up, her eyes full of panic, it’s Tim who retreats outside and leaves Lucy surrounded by her friends. 

Lucy is still asleep, her body clearly needing the rest. Visiting hours have just started, but Tim knows Rachel needs to get to work soon. He also needs to sort out some PTO for himself if he wants to remain at Lucy’s bedside and help out. 

The moment he calls Grey, he sighs in relief. 

“I have already benched you for today,” Grey says, almost as a greeting. “You can take as much time as you need, and so can Chen. I’ve already cleared it with IA and the Chief. Detectives will be by for your statement after she wakes up.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“She needs the support,” Grey adds, his voice strangely soft. “You send me a message the moment you have news, okay?”

“Will do,” Tim adds, hanging up right after Grey, then taking another deep breath. 

His chest still feels tight, but not as much as it did before he actually saw Lucy, and taking deep breaths now feels easier. 

The door clicks shut sometime after Tim finished the call with Grey, though he couldn’t pinpoint how long it had been. He’s in a daze, time moving slow and fast at the same time. 

“Hey,” Rachel’s soft voice reaches him, and he can feel her hand cup his cheek. 

His whole body shivers at the unexpected contact, and Rachel is quick to pull her hand back, almost as if she had burned him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come out,” Tim says, trying to shake off the fact that he had just recoiled at the touch of his girlfriend. 

“It’s okay. It’s been a long couple of days,” she says, sitting in the plastic chair next to his, though she’s careful not to touch him. 

It’s Tim who reaches out, squeezing her knee as an apology, his words hard to come out. She beats him to it, her turn to speak. 

“Thank you for never giving up on Lucy,” Rachel says, her voice soft, almost a murmur in the din of the hospital hallway. “Jackson told me what you did, so thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” he says, echoing his classic answer that for once doesn’t feel one hundred percent true to his own self. 

“You went above and beyond. I know you care about her, even if you pretend not to,” she adds, a small smile on her face. 

Tim sighs, nodding, unable to deny her. He knows what he feels for Lucy is much different than what he felt for his previous rookies, but he can’t put a finger on what that means just yet, his mind too clouded by worry and adrenaline and leftover fear to think clearly. 

“She’s so good at getting under my skin,” he adds, winning a smile and a squeeze of his hand from Rachel.

“She’s gonna drive you crazy in your shop soon enough, don’t worry.”

Tim nods, their conversation stalling as Rachel looks at him while Tim stares at a poster about flu vaccines. 

“I have a case here at Shaw, so I have to go meet them now. Let me know when she wakes up so I can come back?”

“Of course,” Tim says, nodding, not feeling the loss when she untangles their hands. “Have a good day,” he adds, not surprised when Rachel leans over for a quick peck. 

The kiss feels almost wrong, and Tim’s stomach churns at the uncomfortable sensation he can’t name. There’s gonna be time for him to figure out what everything means after Lucy’s awake, though, when he can string more than two coherent sentences together and he can think clearly. 

Most of his uneasiness disappears as soon as he’s back inside Lucy’s room, sitting on the plastic chair furthest from her bed, Jackson on the other side of the room, waiting.

Tim synchronizes his breathing with Lucy, and he lets himself drift off, just for a second.

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After Lucy wakes up and they have a short but light conversation, Tim feels marginally better, but he still can’t bring himself to move out of her room. He sits outside, leaving the room for West and Nolan to visit in private, but he still can’t go home. 

He can hear their muffled voices through the ajar door, but he is still on alert, knowing that Caleb might not be a threat anymore, but Rosalind Dyer probably is, and they’ll have to come to terms with that fact sooner or later. He feels responsible for this, the catalyst to Lucy’s hospital stay, and maybe being uncomfortable until her release can be his penance. 

“Get up,” he hears, and when he looks up, Angela is staring down at him, hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. 

“What?”

“Go home. Go to bed, then come back in the morning.”

“Lopez –”

“Nope. No excuses. She’s fine. She’ll be fine even tomorrow morning. I’ll make sure of it. And Jackson and Nolan will make sure of it.”

Subconsciously, he knows she’s right, but reconciling his heart and his head is difficult in this instance. He’s usually a much more rational man, but apparently, his injured rookie throws all of his walls and safeguards out the window. 

“Are you staying here?” Tim asks to confirm. 

Angela nods. “I’ll drive you home, then drive back here. I’ll text you proof when I’m at her bedside.” 

Tim doesn’t relent, though the prospect of a real shower and a soft bed is appealing. He doesn’t know if he deserves any of it, not when Lucy is still here.
 
“She’s fine. And she’ll be fine even if you are at home.”

He fights with himself and Angela’s stern look for a minute longer, then his exhaustion wins. He stands up, following Lopez to the parking lot, and he lets her lead him home. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs when they’re halfway home. 

“Don’t mention it,” she says, her features softening.

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The proof picture comes when he has already crawled into bed and he’s ready to succumb to sleep. It’s the still frame of a video of a soft-smiling Lucy, her eyes tired but bright.  

“I’m fine. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning,” she says, her voice rough and scratchy, but she already sounds better than she did when she first woke up. She almost looks like the rookie who sits beside him every shift for twelve hours, driving him insane. 

Almost. 

It’s not much, but it brings him enough relief that he loops the video only five times before he’s asleep.

Chapter Text

It’s mid-morning when Jackson wheels Lucy out of the hospital, and the sun on her face feels almost foreign. There’s a bite in the chill breeze, but the sky is bright blue and the sunshine is full of promises. The scrapes on her chin and wrists sting when the wind hits them, but she appreciates the slight pain. 

It means she’s alive enough to feel pain.

Yet, she can’t really appreciate the beauty of a mild December day. 

Jackson doesn’t say much on the drive back to their apartment, and Lucy doesn’t fill the silence either. She watches the Christmas decorations already up, adorning stores and private homes, dim during daylight hours. 

She’s so not in tune with the cheery Christmas atmosphere all around her. 

Even her apartment feels somewhat foreign to her when her door opens into her open-plan kitchen and living room. 

She remembers going to work, before knowing about Rosalind, with a certain contentment in her heart. Sure, she was a bit annoyed that her dating life was miserable, but the night with Jackson, John, and Armstrong had been pleasant, and she had enjoyed herself. 

Her bedroom looks almost frozen in time when she steps foot there. There’s a discarded and slightly crumpled t-shirt on her chair, one she deemed too smelly to be good for another workday but okay for a quick errand, as well as a halfway-full hamper of clothes she never got around to washing. There’s jewelry on her desk and her boots slightly tilted in the corner, a scarf forgotten on her dresser that she had ditched before meeting Caleb at Las Torres.

It almost feels like when she visited her great aunt’s home after her funeral: she went there with her mom to help her pack, and it was a still life of someone who would never get back to those things. 

Lucy wonders if part of her died in that barrel, too. 

There’s a soft knock on her door that shifts her dangerous train of thought. Jackson peeks in, saving her from herself. 

“Do you need anything? I’m home all day today. Day off.”

Lucy shakes her head. “I’m going to do some laundry,” she says, gathering her hospital bag and emptying the few clothes in her hamper. Nothing had been savaged from her kidnapping, and even if it had been, she would’ve burned them herself. 

“What would you like for lunch? We can order in or…”

“A sandwich is fine. If we have any fillings left.”

“There should be some turkey and probably cheese. I’ll check,” Jackson says, clicking the door shut. 

Lucy closes her eyes, sighing before she picks up her hamper and the detergent from her bathroom and makes her way to the basement, where the machines are. She’s happy the room is deserted, so she sits in the dim light of the high windows, lulled by the hum of the washers, staring at the peeling paint and the steel pipes, sitting on an uncomfortable metal chair. 

People at the hospital and even her friends kept telling her how lucky she was to be okay, to have survived a serial killer. She wonders how she can be lucky when she had actually liked spending time with Caleb at the bar before he drugged her, when he had seemed an interesting person to get to know. 

She clearly is a terrible judge of character. There’s proof on her skin. 

She gasps as her hand touches the bandage on her side, and tears spring to her eyes. He branded her, and she’ll have the reminder for the rest of her life, visible tattoo or not. Even if she gets it removed, she’ll know forever where he had touched her while she was unconscious. 

Before she makes herself throw up what little she has in her stomach, she shifts her thoughts to Tim, his tight face the first thing she saw when she woke up, and when she emerged from the barrel. His eyes, full of emotions, will remind her forever that she’s alive. 

She’s lost in her thoughts for the whole washing cycle, pulled out only when the machine beeps, signaling it’s time to switch her clothes to the dryer. She mechanically does that, carefully checking that everything she has washed can be dried and doesn’t need to air-dry, then she starts the dryer, minus two blouses that she prefers to air-dry, which she puts on hangers and brings upstairs to her shower rod. 

It’s wild how normal those routines are, how freaking domestic everything is.

Lucy looks at herself in the mirror for a split second, debating a shower, but then she remembers the unwanted tattoo on her skin. She already had a shower at the hospital anyway, when she was still a bit doped up from the drugs. She can smell like antiseptic and hospital for a bit longer.

Jackson beckons her to the kitchen and she leaves the room willingly. He has two identical plates with sandwiches cut into triangles and a bowl of carrot sticks, as well as a huge bag of chips for both of them. 

“Is this good?” he asks, a small, tentative smile on his lips. 

Lucy nods and sits beside him, taking the first bite. The whole wheat bread she usually loves tastes like cardboard, but she fakes a smile and chews through the first triangle, marginally feeling better that there’s the bite of the mustard to make her taste anything but the cardboard, the turkey and the cheese finally hitting her right when she was about to give up on flavor, though the crunch of the lettuce is wholly unsatisfying. 

“I got some essential groceries yesterday when Nolan was visiting you, but is there anything you need?” Jackson asks, his eyes probing but not too sympathetic. 

A time machine.

“No, I don’t think so. I can go get something tomorrow: I’m on medical leave for at least a week, and I need to go to therapy anyway.”

She needs to buy more ointment for the tattoo, but she’s not going to ask Jackson that. She’ll hash out the tattoo with her therapist, ask for her suggestions.

“Oh!” Jackson’s eyes widen. “LAPD-mandated?”

“Yes, but also my own therapist. I’ve been seeing Rosa since I started as a rookie; she knows me. I gotta check in with Grey if she makes the cut for LAPD-mandated therapy, too.”

“That would be good.”

“Do you go to therapy?” Lucy asks, but Jackson shakes his head. “Would you like a referral? Some cases are hard to let go of, and Rosa has always given me a great perspective on those.”

“I think I might need that, yeah. Thank you, Luce.”

She shares a small but genuine smile with Jackson. He is really holding it together, but she knows he’s not okay either. How can he be, after rescuing her from certain death? And caring about Jackson takes her mind off her own spiraling thoughts, so she’ll welcome the task if he lets her.

Jackson shifts the conversation to Top Chef episodes – shifting the mood, lightening her load – and she manages to finish even the second half of her sandwich and most of her carrots, much to Jackson’s delight. 

They decide to save the chips for a Top Chef marathon, but while Jackson sets up the couch, she goes to retrieve and fold her laundry from the basement. 

They spend the afternoon vegetating on the couch under a blanket, snacking on chips and drinking tea in their favorite mugs, her mind happily numbed by the recipes and the kitchen drama. Jackson keeps her there, even though he continues to text people updates. She even sees him update Ofc. Bradford once or twice, and she has no idea what to make of that.

What Lucy dreads is going to sleep, and for once she doesn’t refuse the sleep aids Grace prescribed her. She wants at least one night when everything feels normal and there are no nightmares. 

She collapses quickly after swallowing the pill, and she welcomes the dark embrace of sleep.

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When she wakes up in the morning, she’s marginally rested, but she still feels numb. 

She has a therapy session with Rosa mid-afternoon, but her morning is clear and she decides to go shopping. 

She’s still drinking coffee in her pajamas when Jackson comes out of his bedroom, ready for work. 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he asks, his eyes scanning her. 

“I am. I’m just going to the Trader Joe’s on Sunset then back home and then to therapy. Rosa’s office is two blocks from here, so I don’t even need to drive anywhere. I’ll be fine.”

Jackson takes a deep breath and studies her carefully, before his posture relaxes. 

“Nolan and Harper have the night shift if you need anything this morning, okay?”

Lucy nods, appreciating the concern, yet feeling babied. “I’ll be okay. Go, before you’re late and Lopez has your head. Text me your shopping list if there’s anything you forgot to put in!”

The door clicks shut behind his back and the house plunges into an unexpected silence. Lucy closes her eyes for a second, listening to the traffic on the street in front of her building, the faint call of a child for their mother, and another baby crying. There’s life outside her apartment, unlike the void she could hear in the barrel, the silence of the isolated cabin where Caleb had taken her captive. The city and her apartment building buzz with life and people and normalcy, and she can let out a shaky exhale at the knowledge. 

She put on a brave face for Jackson, but she hopes a trip to the supermarket won’t be too destabilizing, that the normalcy of the chore can settle her mind and her body. 

She’s fighting this feeling of immense gratitude and energy for being alive, coexisting with the dread that she let her guard down, that she misjudged Caleb’s intentions and she betrayed all of the training and head-on-a-swivel mentality Tim had drilled into her from Day One. 

Lucy has no idea how she can face the disappointment she’ll see on her TO’s face. She has no idea how she can face the disappointment on Tim’s face even less.

Ignoring her own feelings, she stuffs them in a box and grabs the shopping list from the fridge instead, together with the reusable shopping bags they have at the door. She had to be traumatized to finally remember them, apparently, because Jackson would always hound her about the stupid bags. 

She walks to the supermarket, which is only a couple of blocks away, and she lets the morning sunlight beat on her face. It is not cold enough for a coat, but she’s comfortable in a thick hoodie and sweatpants. She might not be ready for a fashion red carpet, but she’s comfortable. 

As she walks there, she imagines possible excuses she can use for the scrapes on her face, and she settles for her favorite by the time she reaches the parking lot: motorcycle accident. Face versus asphalt, not face versus desert gravel versus serial killer. 

Lucy takes a deep breath before she spirals into a panic of her own doing, and crosses the sliding doors. 

The supermarket buzzes with lights and colors and she smells fresh bread in the air. For once, it’s overwhelming in a good way, and she wants to thank whoever decided not to go grocery shopping, because the place is relatively empty. She can go around with her basket easily, and she can stroll aimlessly without a care. 

She usually loves grocery runs, studying the fruits and vegetables, choosing the cuts of meat and the wedges of cheese, sneaking in her cart a couple of unhealthy snacks; today, she wants to keep things short and sweet, so she reads the items on her list and gets started. 

Not even five minutes in, she hears: “Hi!” and her heart stops. 

Her muscles lock, and she can hear her heartbeat in her ears as she whips around to spot any possible threat. Her hand goes to her hip, where her holster should be, and her whole body is on alert until her eyes settle on Nolan, his basket practically empty beside hers. 

Lucy takes a deep breath and, after a long exhale, she can school her expression into something that resembles a smile. 

“H-Hey, John,” she says, sounding somewhat okay, even if her shaky voice might betray her feelings. 

“What a coincidence finding you here! Is this your usual hangout?” he asks, and Lucy hopes he’ll never pursue undercover work or they’ll blow his cover in a nanosecond. 

She has no doubt Nolan would’ve been in bed, getting some sleep before his night shift, if Jackson hadn’t pushed him here, casually shopping at the same time and in the same place as her. It’s oddly sweet how big-brotherly they are acting toward her, and she decides to let it slide. 

“I love this place. They’ve got some killer veggies and snacks,”

“Oh, yeah. That’s why I came all the way here,” Nolan fakes, and it almost puts a smile on Lucy’s face. 

They walk down the dried fruit aisle in silence, side by side, and it’s relatively quiet for no more than a minute before Nolan asks: “How are you, Lucy?”

The way he looks at her is soft and concerned, and she hates that this is the default look from pretty much everyone except Bradford. His scowl will never be unwelcome after the Caleb ordeal. 

“Every day I do my best to appreciate the fact that I’m alive,” she answers, and even chatty Nolan is taken aback for a moment by the honesty and the raw reply. She doesn’t regret it, though. 

Nolan is a weird friend for her, because he knows intimate details about her that only a handful of people are privy to, secrets that they both hold from their unfortunate dating experience, though the embers of that have been cooled completely, especially now that Nolan is dating Dr. Sawyer. And Grace is a really nice match for him, they look good together. 

“How are you, John?” she asks in return, winning a genuine smile from her friend. 

“Quite appreciative of my life as well,” he mirrors her answer, tackling a big grin at the end of it, one that carries them from the dried fruits to the bread. 

They’ve just passed the fourth kind of fancy bread rolls before she hears it. 

Stars shining bright above you

Her feet refuse to move when her ears pick up the words. 

Her fingers lock on the handle of the basket she’s carrying, her knuckles white. She is rooted near the crackers, unable to process anything else but the words being sung from the speakers, frozen like the fish fingers a couple of aisles down. 

Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you

The voice is not the deep, rich one of Nina Simone that Lucy has always loved to listen and sing along to; no, this voice is much more high-pitched, less haunted. The melody is more acoustic and less jazzy, but it doesn’t stop Lucy from tasting the blood on the inside of her cheek and feel the phantom of dirt on her arms and legs. The cut on her face stings, sharp as if it were fresh and still ready to ooze blood. The skin on her wrists seems to be red and raw, as if the zip ties had just been broken. 

Rationally, Lucy knows she’s in a supermarket and not in the desert, escaping from Caleb, but the temperature suddenly feels like it’s a hundred degrees, even though the sweat from the AC is cooling on her back. 

Birds singin’ in the sycamore trees

Her lungs cannot fully inflate or deflate, and she’s gasping and panting, her legs giving out under her as she crouches between her shopping basket and loaves of whole wheat bread, curling up in a tight ball, trapped like in the barrel. The world is closing in on Lucy, and as much as she tries to count everything that she can see, touch, hear, smell, it’s hard not to mix the reality of the supermarket with the memories of captivity in her head. 

It takes what feels like forever before Nolan notices that Lucy is not beside him anymore but, in reality, it might have been less than thirty seconds. Yet, Lucy is already on the floor, curled up into a ball and rocking herself slightly, trying to soothe her overactive brain. 

He is quick to respond and crouch beside her, without touching her, but his presence brings a welcome change, even though it’s not enough to ground her. 

“Lucy, stay with me,” he says, his voice the same calm, soothing one when he responds to a volatile call or a domestic dispute. Usually, he’s pretty good at talking people off ledges, but Lucy is not on a ledge, but trapped in a very small, suffocating metal container buried six feet under, and it will take more than a few words to dig her out of her mental shallow grave. 

“Song,” she murmurs, unable to articulate more syllables without tasting sand and her throat feeling raw from the lack of oxygen and the extensive singing. 

Nolan seems to clue in and jumps back to his feet, probably headed to the customer service desk and charming them into changing the radio station. 

Dream a little dream of me 

Her body is coiled tight, and the tension doesn’t snap when suddenly, all sound from the radio speakers ceases. Slowly, she tries to focus on other things she can hear: the beeping of the cashiers scanning the shopping and the rustling of paper bags, quiet chatter, the wheels of the baskets and the carts gliding on the smooth floors, the whooshing of the sliding doors opening and closing. 

She opens her eyes and blinks away the fog, focusing on the packaging of the bread surrounding her, the reds and greens and browns, much different than the rusted metal of the barrel. 

Before she can catalog more types of bread, her eyes lock with Jackson’s and she sees Tim standing next to him. The vice around her heart seems to loosen even further: they were not in the barrel with her, even though she has no idea how they could be standing in front of her in full uniform, ready to respond to a call. 

Maybe she is their call. Maybe someone called the police on her crazy ass, scared she could hurt someone in her psychotic state. But Lucy is not worried about that, she’s worried about getting up from this cold floor and disappearing back home, followed by her own shame.

“Luce?” Jackson’s voice is not properly a question, but he clearly is treading carefully, maybe he’s even a little scared. 

Lucy doesn’t reply, but she focuses on the clean scent of his cologne, familiar and homey as the younger officer crouches in front of her. It is familiar just as much as Tim’s smell, as her TO sits beside her, mirroring her pose with his legs bent and his elbows on his knees, though he’s clearly much more relaxed, his muscles not coiled tightly, but ready to intervene. 

Jackson smells sweeter, rounder, but Tim’s scent reminds her of the biting winds on a beach surrounded by trees, of a forest mixing with the ocean, and its familiarity overpowers even the tempting smell of fresh, warm bread. 

Lucy can flex her fingers then, curling them around her shins, holding on less tightly, feeling the soft material of her sweatpants under her fingertips. One of the shelves is digging uncomfortably into her spine, and her butt is chilly on the floor, but she reaches out to grasp Tim’s hand, and the man doesn’t back away. 

Her breathing is less labored as she focuses on the soft, tiny circles he’s rubbing on the back of her hand, or the gentleness he’s using to trace her knuckles. 

It could’ve been a minute or an hour before she stops tasting the desert in her mouth and oxygen fills her lungs fully. 

She’s ready to just take a nap right there by the time her body has loosened enough to even think about standing. But Tim’s hand gently keeps her down, calm against the shelves of the bread aisle, grounding her. 

Maybe it’s because his was the first familiar touch she had felt after the ordeal in the barrel, or maybe just because she’s so comfortable around him after spending so much time together on the job, but having Tim there is what rewires her brain into functioning again. She has never held his hand, but it doesn’t feel as foreign as she was expecting it to be. 

Jackson is still kneeling in front of her, his eyes studying hers, careful concern clearly on display. 

“What happened?” Jackson asks, and Lucy sighs loudly as Tim squeezes her hand one last time, then lets go. 

She knows it would be totally unprofessional to reach out again, but most of her brain wants her to. 

“I heard the song. On the radio,” Lucy says, her voice scratchy, but not panicked. 

“Is this your first panic attack?” Tim asks, his brow furrowed in his confused TO fashion. 

Lucy shakes her head. “I have tools to get through them, but I was caught completely off guard,” she admits, her cheeks burning as she stares at her knees. 

“You know what works in case of more?” Tim continues, winning a nod from Lucy. 

“I’m seeing Rosa later, I’ll talk to her about it,” Lucy says, then clarifies, “My therapist,” when she notices Tim’s confused expression.

“Good. I know what works for me, but I don’t know what works for you, Chen,” he adds, then his cheeks color at the admission that he sometimes has panic attacks, too. 

She can’t help but look into Tim’s eyes, study his vulnerable expression, remind herself of the veteran of two tours in the desert behind his TO front, then she lets it go. She’s ashamed enough for the both of them anyway. 

It’s Jackson who helps her to her feet, squeezing her bicep in silent support as she exhales shakily. 

“Do you need a ride home?” Jackson asks, sharing a look with Nolan and Tim. 

“I need to finish my shopping. And I know John will follow me home anyway,” she adds, winning a nervous chuckle from the older rookie. 

“He’d better,” Jackson says, his smile tight and still nervous. 

“I’m okay guys, really. Thank you for showing up,” she whispers the last part, still embarrassed, yet she only receives kind smiles in return. Even from Bradford, who apparently knows how to smile. 

She watches the two cops return to patrol their sector and sighs in defeat. She really has a lot of things to discuss with her therapist.

Maybe she’ll have to book two-hour sessions next time. 

Chapter Text

Lucy’s leg jiggles in the empty waiting room of Dr. Rosa Ruiz. The earthly tones of her office should infuse calm and relaxation, but Lucy is nervous about this session: admitting that she freaked out in the middle of Trader Joe’s is not going to be fun. 

Luckily, she’s here alone. 

Nolan, her supermarket shadow, had left her after they paid for their shopping, with a little awkwardness and a lot of encouragement. Jackson and Tim are still on shift, though she kind of expects them to be waiting outside of Rosa’s office when she’s done. 

She might just shove them away, even though she is already drained of most of her energy. It’s not even noon, and she could take a nap right now. Maybe that’s what she’ll do after she meets with Rosa. 

She likes her therapist, she really does, but she’s feeling guarded with her heart today. She knows Rosa is going to pry it open and poke where it hurts. 

Rosa is a middle-aged woman with black hair and deep brown eyes who can read into your soul, though the faint smell of lavender and sage makes her office feel like a relaxing garden Lucy can get lost in. Even though she’s a bit unconventional in her methods, Lucy is glad she also qualifies as LAPD-mandated therapy, so that she doesn’t need to see a bunch of people before she’s even allowed back to work. 

Because there’s one thing that has been solidified in her brain: she wants to go back to being a police officer, so that nobody else will have to face what she had to face. 

It’s so idealistic it sounds like a pamphlet for the LAPD Academy, but she clings to the idea of going back and putting criminals behind bars as therapy for her own trauma. Maybe she’s not ready now, but she hopes one day she can be.

Rosa is her usual self during therapy, and Lucy struggles, using up a bunch of tissues, though neither of them cares. She probably looks wrecked by the time she exits therapy and makes her way home, but she’s glad most of their neighbors are at work and not walking around with their dogs or running errands. 

When she gets home, she does indeed take a long nap, though it feels anything but restful, as she wakes herself up quite often, struggling with nightmares. The afternoon gets away from her in a series of deep cleanup tasks she’s been putting off for weeks and regretting most of it when her injuries protest.

Jackson is still on shift by the time there’s a knock on her door. The sharp rap sounds familiar, and she can’t help the soft smile on her lips at the sight of Tim on the other side of her peephole. 

She slowly opens the door, her grin brightening when she sees he’s got a takeout bag clutched in his hand and another bag from her favorite bakery. He’s standing there in a Henley and soft-looking jeans, unassuming and a bit uncomfortable, but still looking exactly what she would expect from her training officer.

“Dinner and dessert. West insisted.” Tim says, even though Lucy knows dessert was his very own idea. 

“Where is Jackson, anyway?” Lucy asks, allowing Tim to enter her apartment. 

“Stuck babysitting a scene for Armstrong. He and Nolan had no other choice.”

“So he sent you my way with tacos?”

Tim practically shrugs, though Lucy knew he clearly had a choice in the matter. She still appreciates the gesture of quiet comfort from her friends, though, and from Tim himself. 

“Is there enough for you, too?” Lucy asks, motioning for Tim to leave the food on the counter. 

“I can take my order and leave. That’s up to you, if you want some peace and quiet,” Tim adds, his eyes searching hers for confirmation of her answer. 

Lucy thinks about it for a moment, about how the weight on her shoulders suddenly feels less overwhelming since she has set her eyes on Tim, and so she nods. 

“Stay.”

Tim gives her the smallest of smiles, settling on one of her stools, his whole body losing most of the tension he had while he was at the door. 

“How was patrol today?” Lucy asks, as they both unwrap and unbox the food, carefully dividing it. She knows his taco order by now, and when she stumbles upon the carnitas while he finds the shrimp, they’re quick to swap shells without even speaking. 

Tim eases into a tale of misdemeanors and petty crimes, smartly glossing over the fact that he had held her together after a panic attack not even two hours into his shift. 

“How was therapy?” he asks, winning a frown from Lucy. 

“Jackson told you I was seeing Rosa today?”

Tim looks confused. “You told me. Remember?”

It dawns on her that she did, even though most of her panic attack has dulled her own perception of time and shared information. 

“Right.”

“Have you figured out what helps you cope?”

Lucy hesitates. They’re about to talk about something private, almost intimate, and she’s not sure if they’re there yet with Tim. Except the guy has literally seen her dead and in the throes of one of her worst panic attacks to date, so maybe they are there now. 

“Grounding. The way your voice kept me tethered to reality helped.”

“What about physical touch?” Tim continues, his whole body focused on her, taking in her expressions. 

“It helps. Keeps me tethered.”

Tim nods, exhaling, then he lowers his eyes and his taco. “That works well for me, too.”

Lucy gasps before she can help herself. Because Tim willingly volunteering such deeply vulnerable information is something she was not expecting from her night. 

“Do you still have panic attacks from the time you served?”

Tim shakes his head. “Only when there’s a very traumatic case. I haven’t had one since I got shot on your second day,” he admits, his cheeks a darker shade of pink at the admission, his eyes focused on the taco wrapper. 

“And here I thought I was the one freaking out,” Lucy jokes, trying to lighten the mood. She does win a chortle from Tim, though. 

“Yeah, the panic arrived after I was all patched up, not in the moment. Adrenaline keeps me sharp and focused.” He admits. “For being only your second day on the job, you did great, Chen.”

Her eyes widen, and she can’t help the grin. “Praise from Officer Bradford? Wow. I really was traumatized,” she adds, but the joke doesn’t land this time. 

The awkward silence stretched for a few seconds, both of them taking a bite of their food to fill it. 

“Sorry, I know you were joking,” Tim says, wiping some salsa from his mouth with a napkin, his exhale shaky.

“I tend to bury my feelings in humor sometimes. Sorry. We’re working on this with Rosa, too. Being open.”

“It’s hard. Don’t worry about it. I usually tolerate your jokes.”

“Unless they turn into spiraling, they’re usually funny jokes,” she replies, winning a smile and a shake of his head from Tim. 

“Whatever you say, Chen.”

She lightly shoves his forearm, winning a chuckle, as they both resume and finish their tacos. The quiet is comfortable now, not charged and awkward, but familiar, something that does keep Lucy grounded. 

The more they sit there though, the more she wants to confess something to Tim, until the secret becomes a ball of feelings lodged in her throat, one she cannot swallow, just spit out. 

So she spits it out. 

“I knew you would find me,” she blurts, and the room stands still. 

“What?” Tim says, his voice barely above a whisper as he stops crinkling wrappers and cleaning up the mess of their takeout dinner, frozen. 

“When I was in the barrel, singing, I knew you would find me. I knew you would go to the ends of the earth to find your rookie, and I was right.”

“How did you know?” 

“Because you’re you. You are honorable, and stubborn, and determined. And I knew you didn’t want me to die.”

“Of course I didn’t. I wanted to find you. Everyone did.”

“And you found me.”

“I couldn’t lose you,” Tim admits, and she can see how he can’t meet her eyes because they’re shining with tears. 

“I’m glad you saved me,” Lucy admits, her voice cracking. “That’s what we talked about with Rosa today: how happy I am to be alive. That I can’t wait to go back to being a police officer.”

“Oh,” Tim says, surprise evident in his gasp. “You want to continue your training?”

“I’m even more determined to put bad people behind bars now. I know what it feels like to be a victim, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else,” she says, shuddering at the mere memory. 

“I’ll be happy to finish training you whenever you’re fully healed and ready to come back,” Tim says, emotion clear in his voice, even though his eyes have cleared of tears. 

Lucy smiles, small and shy and tentative, winning a similar smile from Tim, who is staring at her, trying to see if she’s lying through her teeth or if she’s telling the truth about continuing with her rookie year. 

“I can talk to Grey about keeping up with your training as you heal, quizzing you on your Rook Book, on procedures, even firearms training if it doesn’t hurt you too much,” Tim says, eagerness and a newfound determination in his tone. 

“It would be a good way for you to review stuff for the Sergeants’ exam, too. Right?”

Tim nods. “That’s true.”

“And you learn better when you listen, so maybe…” Lucy trails off, feeling a bit bold with the offer, but she kind of wants to put it on the table. “Do you want me to help you study?”

Tim thinks about it for a second, even though Lucy can see in his eyes that he had already made a decision the second she had even hinted at the idea. 

“I will not make it easy for you,” Tim says. “Because you’re injured doesn’t mean I won’t let you work you hard, deal?”

“Same goes for you. Don’t believe that trauma will keep me from asking super obscure questions,” she counters. 

They’re both grinning while they shake on it, almost like the sneakiest of pacts. Both of them ignore the way the air crackles and their skin tingles when their hands make contact, or even how Tim’s thumb seems to rub a second too long over the palm of Lucy’s hand while she squeezes his hand for dear life. 

Just two co-workers turned friends, sealing a pact. 

No big deal. 

No big deal.

Chapter Text

Tim’s first study session for his Sergeant’s exam starts with a text while he’s on shift and Lucy is on her way to the animal shelter to volunteer. Her phone buzzes with a text as she’s exiting her car.

TIM: Describe the level system of a supervisor response to an in-progress emergency.

Lucy takes her time to answer it, mulling it over in the back of her brain while she speaks to the clerk at the shelter and takes a look at the heap of good dogs there, ready to be taken outside for a little playtime. 

Today, she chooses Bruno, a fierce but sad-looking German Shepherd, with big brown eyes who are begging for treats. Bruno is easy to walk, and Lucy has a feeling he might not stay long in the shelter if he keeps looking at prospective adopters like he looks at her. At least that’s what she hopes for. 

She answers Tim with an audio message, clearly easier considering the length of the explanation and the fact that she’s holding the leash of an excited dog. 

LUCY: Locate, isolate, verify, evacuate, negotiate, or neutralize 

Tim answers only a few moments later, with a thumbs-up emoji and a check mark. Lucy regrets teaching him about emojis until she sees the three dots appearing, signaling he’s writing more. 

TIM: Why do I hear barking? Are you at a dog park or did you randomly get a dog? 

Lucy grins down at Bruno, heeling perfectly beside her as she stops at a traffic light on their way to the park. She answers between a red and a green light. 

LUCY: Animal shelter. Doc told me to walk instead of running, so I’m walking with puppies. 

She attaches a picture of Bruno, his ears pointed up, his nose in the air as he stares up at her, proudly. 

LUCY: Also, I should be the one asking you questions, Bradford.

They keep exchanging texts about police procedures and LAPD code of conduct during her entire walk, a back and forth of quizzing each other and making fun of each other, until Tim tells her he’s got a raid to go back to. 

Lucy feels a pang of loneliness when she returns Bruno to the shelter and the puppy whines a grateful canine thank you. She promises the shelter clerks and volunteers that she’ll be back more often as her recovery progresses, and they’re more than happy to have her. 

She spends the rest of the morning cooking a whole lot of dumplings and freezing them, even going as far as labeling one bag Bradford, hoping he’ll accept it. She even adds the dipping sauce in a smaller baggie, so that he can have a ready-made but homemade meal. She knows he likes dumplings, and it’s the least she can do after he saved her life. 

She sends Tim a picture of the bag, adding:

LUCY: Ready for pickup whenever you can come.

Lucy’s afternoon is spent in quiet meditation, going through some of the exercises and thinking points Rosa has given her to process the events of the barrel. She comes to the realization that, while she still wants to be a police officer, she’s not sure she’s ready to go back yet. 

She tells Jackson as much, while he’s stuffing his face with her dumplings and almost crying at how good they are. 

“Look, you do have some time to process this while you’re recovering, right?” Jackson says, wiping the last of the sauce on a napkin.

“Yeah. I haven’t been cleared for duty by my doctor. And Rosa hasn’t cleared me either.”

“That’s not gonna happen overnight. I bet that when you’re physically and psychologically ready, the rest will come.” Lucy gives Jackson a soft squeeze of his forearm, grateful for his support. “In the meantime though, keep making dumplings. God, these are better than Liu’s Dumplings on Melrose!” 

“My Nana taught me how to make them. They’re my great-grandmother’s recipe.” Lucy beams proudly. There aren’t many things she treasures as a Chen, but her Nana Lin’s dumplings and her lotus root soup are the kind of heritage she wants to pass down to her own children someday, not the generational trauma of never being good enough.  

“Please, keep making them forever.”

Lucy giggles. “I’ve frozen a couple of batches.”

“I love you.”

Lucy openly laughs, happy that she can feel unburdened after a conversation with her best friend. Jackson’s face becomes more somber when he asks the next question. 

“Have you seen your parents since…?” 

Lucy shakes her head. “They called me yesterday when they got back from Sonoma. They were not happy, though they’re glad I survived.”

Jackson sighs. “Look, I like your mom, but she’s not being a good mom right now. She didn’t even cut her business trip short for you!”

“She had a presentation to give,” Lucy mocks her mother’s words, ignoring the sting, feeling the comfort of Jackson’s indignation as he shovels more dumplings in his mouth. His side-eye is extra motivation to ignore the fact that her own family doesn’t care much about her near-death experience, after all. 

Her Nana called as soon as she was out of the hospital and they’ve been speaking on the phone every other day, so at least part of her own family is grateful she’s still alive.

She hopes her parents might come around, as soon as they realize what she survived, but Lucy is not holding her breath. She’s not sure they understood the magnitude of it by simply listening to the news and hearing Jackson’s phone call. 

Still, part of her is glad they’re ignoring her, because she doesn’t have the mental space to be their perfect daughter right now, not when she’s so focused on putting one feet in front of the other.

Jackson bumps her shoulder with his and gives her a small smile, and Lucy returns it with kindness. At least she has Jackson by her side.

The moment is interrupted when there’s a knock at their door. 

Jackson frowns, his eyes darting to the closed door. “Were you expecting anyone?”

Lucy shakes her head. “You?”

Jackson does the same, shrugging, then standing up to check the peephole. He sighs. “Give the man a key already,” he says, before opening the door to reveal Tim, his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets, a sheepish grin on his lips. 

“I heard there were dumplings with my name on them?”

“Hey,” Lucy greets, her cheeks feeling hotter all of a sudden. “There might even be some cooked ones ready to taste. Have you had dinner already?”

Tim shakes his head, and so does Jackson, muttering “Teacher’s pet” behind Bradford’s back. Lucy almost laughs, but makes room for Tim at their island, grabbing a placemat, then silverware and a plate. 

“Thank you, Chen. I swear I just wanted to grab the dumplings and go, I didn’t just invite myself to dinner.”

“Well, Lucy has a tendency to take in strays. Look at me!” Jackson grins, teasing her, and winning an eyeroll from Lucy herself. 

She’s strangely proud when he picks chopsticks instead of the fork she also offered, and she is a bit surprised by the agility with which he uses them. They don’t often eat Chinese or sushi on shift, and she has never paid attention to that simple detail. Now, unhurried and relaxed, Lucy feels like she has more time to study her training officer, and she likes discovering these tidbits of off-duty Tim. 

“Damn, Chen. You made these? From scratch?” Bradford frowns, studying the dumplings with intensity. 

Lucy nods, echoing what she told Jackson. “Family recipe.”

“They’re better than Wong’s. The food truck on Pico.”

Jackson laughs, and Lucy blushes even deeper. “I said they’re better than Liu’s Dumplings.”

“Oh yeah. You could sell them for money at the station if you ever need to make extra cash,” Tim adds, laughing. “I’d pay good money for them.”

“You can, if you want,” Lucy grins. “Or you could just write glowing evaluations for me until the end of my rookie year.”

“Bribery! I love it!” Jackson pipes up. 

“What is the LAPD policy on gratuities, Officer Chen?” Bradford asks.

“A Tim Test right now? Really?” Lucy sighs. 

“You asked for it. Gotta keep you sharp.”

“Fine,” she relents, taking a deep breath. “No officer shall receive any gratuity, gift, favor, or promise of thereof, as it may result in or be perceived as payment in exchange for influence, bias, or direction of an investigation or enforcement of punishable offenses.” 

“Impressive,” Bradford nods, chomping on a dumpling. 

“Still, I’m not a civilian. Does it even apply?”

“Spirit of the law, like the creme brulée,” Jackson adds, shuddering at the memory. “Bring these to the Christmas party and everyone will just owe you forever,” he shrugs, and Lucy feels a shiver run down her spine. 

She forgot that Christmas is only a couple of weeks away, her spirit not at all in a celebratory mood. If she’s lucky, she’ll still be out on medical leave and she doesn’t have to attend. Or if she does, she’ll pretend it’s any other party and just eat and drink until she forgets it’s even Christmas. 

“Are you coming to the party?” Tim asks. “I know your name is in the Secret Santa draw –”

“Actually, it’s not. I was in the hospital the day they chose the recipients.”

While she could play the race card because she’s not Christian, she likes the idea of Christmas and Santa, exchanging gifts and showing gratitude. She was so excited for the Secret Santa, but maybe it’s better this way. She’ll probably get Tim a small gift, something for Jackson and Nolan, and that’s it. Still, there’s absolutely zero excitement over twinkling lights and decorated fir trees. 

“I put your name down,” Jackson says, his eyes not meeting hers. “I took out a name for you, too. I knew you wanted to be a part of this.”

She gasps in surprise. “Really?”

Jackson gets up and opens their junk drawer, taking out a folded piece of green paper, before he hands it to her. 

Lucy takes it, suddenly nervous. Before she opens it, she looks at the two men in her kitchen, then turns to Tim. “Are you in the group?”

His ears are pink when he nods. “Angela forced me to be a part of this ridiculous tradition for a bet two years ago. I even drew my former rookie. Lopez had the time of her life when I gave him socks with police cars.”

“So imaginative,” Lucy grins, imagining the scene. “If I remember correctly, the theme of this Secret Santa is that it has to be a police-themed gift, right?”

Jackson nods. “Budget is under twenty dollars. Better if it’s under fifteen, even.”

“What if I go over the budget?” 

“Your loss. But please do, especially if you drew my name,” Jackson grins, winning an eye-roll from Lucy. 

She starts unfolding the paper, a zing of excitement coursing through her veins at the idea of discovering who her Secret Santa is. She hopes it’s someone she knows at least a bit, as long as it’s not Smitty.

TIM BRADFORD

The excitement dies down, and she knows it must show on her face, because while she was planning on giving Tim something, now it has to be done publicly and her heart hammers a bit too fast under her ribcage at the mere idea. 

“Tough one?” Tim asks, clearly clocking in her frown. 

“Yup,” she confirms. 

“You’re good at giving gifts. You told me you were the best for Rachel’s birthday, after all. You’ll figure it out.”

Lucy nods, taking a deep breath and hoping she’ll get some ideas. Maybe she’ll browse the internet for clues and see what she can come up with. Tim is a tough guy to shop for, after all. 

“Are you spending the holidays with your family this year?” Tim asks. 

“I was planning on working, but I guess I’ll show up for a meal at their house. Maybe. I’m not feeling it much.”

“I usually work, so if you’re ready to go back, I’ll be on shift.” His offer on the table both comforts her and scares her. He's so sure she’ll be back on duty by Christmas, and it’s unsettling. “West? Family dinner?” Tim asks, his words much sharper than how he was speaking to her.

Jackson nods. “We used to go down to San Diego to visit my aunt for a couple of days, but I don’t think I can make the trip this year.”

“Maybe being out of town could be the solution,” Lucy thinks out loud, then shakes her head. The mere idea of travelling by herself gives her the heebie jeebies. It’ll take a long while before she feels strong enough to go on an adventure by herself again. 

“My sister Genny lived in San Francisco and I used to visit her with Isabel. Making the scenic drive was always my favorite part, aside from seeing my nephews’ surprised faces on Christmas morning.”

“Is your sister coming to visit?” Lucy asks. 

Tim shakes his head. “I was thinking about visiting her, but I don’t know. We’ve lost touch lately after she moved back to Ohio.” He trails off, and she knows there’s a story there he’s not telling, a painful memory he’s guarding with his entire self. She decides not to push. “Big Sur in winter was fantastic the last time I stopped there. Maybe you could go there and decompress. You like nature, you’d love it.”

“Yes, but also no.”

“There are easy hikes you could take, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tim adds.

“That’s not my main concern. My main concern is not being kidnapped again,” Lucy snaps a little too forcefully, biting her tongue not to say more.

Uncomfortable silence blankets the kitchen for a couple of seconds before Tim clears his throat. 

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he says, his voice strangely subdued, void of his usual authority and power. 

The conversation dies down, and Jackson starts cleaning the last dishes from dinner to fight the awkwardness. The tension can be cut with a knife by the time he has loaded his plate in the dishwasher. 

“What if we go together?” Tim blurts, and the strangeness of his statement is accentuated by the slam of the closing dishwasher. All eyes turn to Bradford then: Jackson’s are full of confusion, Lucy’s are wide in disbelief. 

“What?”

“I’ve got a ton of PTO days I never take that Grey always hounds me to take. We can go while you’re on medical leave.”

“What?”

“You can take whoever you want with. I know a couple of places you’ll like.”

Tim’s cheeks are pink as he keeps digging his hole, and Lucy’s disbelief grows exponentially. She tries to babble a response, but she has no idea what to say. 

“Are you serious?” are the only words she can string together. Her frowns deepen. 

“As a heart attack.” He tries to lighten up the air, but it’s still thick with tension and unspoken boundaries being crossed. 

She doesn’t know what to say, and while the offer is flattering, she’s still hesitant, still doubting herself and her abilities to go out of her comfort zone. Or even see Bradford out of his comfort zone and start seeing him as a friend, an equal rather than her superior officer and her TO. 

“Can I think about it?”

Tim is quick to nod vehemently. “Of course. Just…know that it’s a possibility. I know a Lucy Lodge that you’re gonna love if you say yes.”

That piques her interest, and he goes the extra mile by sending her a link via text to the lodge’s website, which displays sprawling ocean views, whale sightings, and walking trails for miles. Bradford really knows how to appeal to her deepest desires after all. 

She’ll talk to Rosa about it, and then decide; her brain is screaming at her to say no, but her heart – soft for this open and kind Tim Bradford – is counteracting with a loud YES! and she’ll need the help of her therapist to unravel this mess. 

Tim looks genuinely pleased she’s even considering the option, and just for that, she might just say yes.

Chapter Text

Lucy is waiting outside her building with a small suitcase and a backpack, wearing hiking boots and a frown. 

Tim shares a tentative smile with her as he puts his hazard lights on, ready to load her things. He would like to be a gentleman and open her door, but Lucy is already climbing in and dropping her stuff in the back of his truck, with a small greeting as the only words she utters.

He turns to her then, hands on the steering wheel, the engine still off.

“We don’t have to go,” he says, even though he wants to. He knows she needs some time away, to reconnect with her mind and her body, but he wants her to feel in control. He doesn’t want to push her if she doesn’t feel ready. 

“Even my therapist thinks it’s a good idea. We should.” Lucy sighs, a small smile as her way to agree with him. “You guys think pretty much alike. Do you know her?”

Tim chuckles. “I always avoided my mandated therapy sessions like the plague so it’s very unlikely.”

“You’d like Rosa,” Lucy says, smiling. 

Tim smiles back, both of them clicking their seatbelts in place as he starts the engine. He doesn’t pull away from the curb, though. 

“I want to drive on the 101 and make it scenic. Are you okay with that, even if it takes longer?” Tim asks, crossing his fingers for a yes. 

He’s pretty sure it’ll be a much quieter ride than what it’s usually like in their shop, but sitting beside each other in a car is a familiar sight, even though he’s worried that being in the car too long might make Lucy feel claustrophobic. 

“How much longer are we talking here?”

“Eight hours, give or take. I want to stop halfway to stretch, but yeah…”

“That’s why you wanted me to pack for a week, then,” she says, shaking her head but with a small smile on her face. “That’s okay, Tim. It’s a vacation for you, too. Even though I’m sure mid-December is not exactly the time you pictured to visit Big Sur.”

Tim starts the car and takes a moment to answer her, merging onto the road and paying attention to his surroundings. 

“I told you, I started driving up by myself to visit my sister when she was in college in San Francisco, and I’ve done it plenty of times around Christmas. While it’s not as breathtaking as in spring, the fact that it’s quiet was my favorite part of the whole trip.”

“That’s why you’re not using the GPS,” Lucy comments. “Not that Tim Bradford needs a GPS, ever.”

Tim chuckles, watching her slow smile, reveling in it, memorizing how precious it feels to see Lucy smile again, even though it’s at his expense. 

“With the kids, it was easier for me to visit her instead of the other way round, and sometimes plane tickets are outrageous. I refuse to pay that much money for a flight that is not even two hours just because it’s near a major holiday.”

“Sounds like you,” Lucy says, her smile still present. It’s not as wide as Tim would like, but he’ll take it. The whole point of this trip is for Lucy to smile more and more, so anything is a win. Even teasing at his expense. 

The first part of their trip, as they exit Los Angeles, is mostly silent, with Lucy asking for radio privileges, then simply listening to her own melancholy playlist as they drive out of the city. It feels familiar, like they’re back in their shop, except Lucy’s excitement is significantly subdued, and they never have music on while they work.

They stop halfway to put some gas in the car and stretch, and Tim watches as Lucy unfurls from the seat like a cat, closing her eyes and breathing in the crisp ocean air as soon as they’re out. 

The ocean in LA doesn’t smell like the ocean here, even though it’s the same ocean, and the small grin on Lucy’s face as she inhales is proof of that. There is a chilly breeze, but the sun is warm enough for them to leave their jackets in the car. 

They eat a sandwich on a picnic table overlooking the water, with seagulls stalking around them, ready to pounce on their leftovers. They have talked about easy topics here and there, but mostly Lucy has been quiet, listening to her own playlist from her phone through Bluetooth, sometimes humming along. 

Such a quiet Lucy is unusual, and maybe he’s been forcing a few conversations here and there, but she has always answered, so he might be doing it right. He’s navigating in blind here, trying things and hoping he won’t fail, all the same wondering why he’s so hell-bent on helping his rookie. He has never felt like this, not even with Isabel, and it’s a foreign feeling. 

He hopes Big Sur can give him clarity, too.

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Lucy keeps staring at Tim with his hands on the wheel, wondering what she did right to deserve a friend like him. He’s not just her TO anymore: after saving her life, she knows they’re friends. 

He’s been initiating conversations, pointing out sights, even stopping for pictures, and she likes this vacation mode Tim Bradford, even if it’s a little uncanny. It does feel weird to share a car that is not their shop, and out of uniform nonetheless, yet it feels perfectly familiar and natural to be in this position, chatting and – why not – bickering over silly things. He has not breached any important topics, but she knows they’re coming, probably not while he’s driving, though. 

She was hesitant about taking the long way there, but she had to give it to Tim, this route has amazing views and might be exactly what she needs to clear her head. 

“Do you have hotel reservations or something?” she asks, only then occurring to her that she’s trusting Tim completely, and the realization makes her shudder for a moment, then take a deep, calming breath. She can smell Tim’s cologne and what is intrinsically Tim Bradford, and the panic is quick to subside because she knows she trusts Tim to keep her safe, and to find her even in her darkness. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s the place I sent you the link for. It’s a family-owned lodge in a small seaside town called Lucia. I thought it was appropriate.” He grins, smug as usual, and she can’t help her eye-roll in response. “If you think it’s too isolated, we can find something different,” he adds, the smugness replaced by gentle understanding.

She bites her lip because she doesn’t know if it’ll feel too isolated. She trusts Tim, but she doesn’t trust herself. 

“Have you ever stayed there?”

“Every time I drove up to see my sister, though I haven’t been there in a while,” he says, shrugging. “The couple that owns the place, Bill and Sherry, are really nice and welcoming. And Sherry makes amazing pancakes for breakfast.”

“That’s good to know. I love pancakes.”

“I remember,” he says. Lucy wonders how many things he remembers about her, considering how he predicted her exact food order as soon as she was awake enough to interact with him. She doesn’t know if it’s normal because they spend over twelve hours a day together, or if it’s just Bradford being Bradford. In any case, it helps her relax knowing he has her back in many different ways. 

Lucy lets Tim’s voice lull her, covering her general uneasiness as they keep driving north toward their destination. 

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They make it to the lodge by late afternoon, and Lucy is amazed by how unreal everything feels. 

The lodge is perched upon a cliff, overlooking the ocean, with incredible views from a terrace that spans the back of the building, and every room seems to have its own private access to such amazing views. Tim points out they might be lucky enough to spot whales and otters during their stay since they’re much busier around December, which adds to the dreamlike feeling. 

They park and decide to check in before they unload their stuff. Lucy is pretty sure Tim suggested it so that if she doesn’t feel comfortable, they can pack up and leave much more quickly, but she pretends not to notice anything about his covert tactics. 

The check-in desk is empty, so they ring a bell, which puts an immediate smile on Lucy’s face. Tim shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but she can see he’s not really bothered by her silliness. 

Sherry is a plump woman with rosy cheeks, wild salt and pepper curls, and a motherly smile. She greets Tim with familiarity and a smile of recognition as soon as she appears, though Lucy can see a hint of curiosity in her gaze at her presence. 

They chat about the drive and the new back porch that wasn’t there last time Tim visited, and Lucy feels more and more confident that she did the right thing by saying yes to this trip.

Tim frowns when Sherry hands him only one key. “I’m sorry, is it only one room?”

It’s Sherry’s turn to frown. “When you called and booked for two, I figured you’d come up with Isabel,” Sherry says, confused. “Do you need two rooms?”

“Isabel and I divorced, and Lucy is my friend. We’re not…” he clears his throat, almost blushing. He’s clearly flustered, his eyes darting around the lobby and ignoring Lucy’s. “I don’t remember if I said two people or two rooms, though.”

“You said two people, Tim. I assumed it’d be you and your wife.”

“Is it possible to have two rooms?”

Sherry sighs. “I’m afraid your booking is the only one left. We’re renovating some of the rooms now that it’s off-season, so we have limited capacity.”

Tim sighs. “Is it possible to have two beds, at least?”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t know.” Sherry looks mortified, and so does Tim. 

In a way, Lucy doesn’t mind sharing a room with Tim. Sharing a bed might be pushing it, but she can get on board if there’s a couch. 

“Sherry, it’s okay. If there’s a couch, I’ll be fine on it. Or even if you have a cot, you can bring it in. One room is fine.”

“We do offer cots. They might be too short for Tim, but I think you can fit.” Sherry grins. “I’ll set it up right away, and I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”

She disappears before Tim can retort, and he huffs in his TO mood.

“Tim, I’m okay with this. Really.”

“That’s not…It’s not…”

“I know.” She smiles at him, squeezing his bicep, reassuring him that they’ll be okay even with this hiccup. “I trust you, Tim.”

The contact sends sparks through her, and the dejected look makes Lucy want to wrap her arms around Tim and hold him until they’re both lost into each other. 

She pulls away. 

He sighs, but it’s his pleased sigh, not his annoyed TO sigh, so Lucy relents. 

“I’m so sorry, again. I wasn’t sure…” he continues, taking a deep breath.

“It was an honest mistake on Sherry’s part, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“It’s not a romantic place, I swear. I mean, it can be, but it’s not…I like the solitude, the scenery. That’s why I picked this. I haven’t been here with Isabel in years either. She hardly ever came up to visit my sister in the last years of our marriage and…I like this for me.”

Lucy nods, almost smiling at the hole he’s digging for himself. She’s not sure Tim Bradford can be romantic, but maybe she can learn a little about this side of him on this trip. Now that they’re friends, she can ask about Isabel, after all.

Sherry comes back with a grin and informs them they’ve put a cot in their room and they’re all set. They follow her down a corridor, stopping at the very end, and she proudly opens a spacious corner room with huge French windows overlooking the ocean. 

Lucy’s eyes fall on the small cot pushed against the wall, eyeing the large king-size bed in the middle of the room with a smidge of envy. The cot still looks better than the bed she used to sleep in at the academy in her apartment overlooking a meth lab, so she can’t complain. 

“I’ll take the cot.” Tim offers, and she rolls her eyes. 

“You drove all day, you can take the bed and rest properly. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I sleep much anyways these days.”

Tim drops his duffel on the dedicated bench, turning to her with a frown. “What do you mean? Nightmares?”

“Most nights, yeah.”

He sighs. “Sorry. Anything that helps? Makes it easier?” 

She shrugs her shoulders but appreciates the concern. “I’ll be okay. You’re doing plenty, Tim. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Luce.”

The way the nickname Jackson sometimes uses rolls of his tongue makes her feel warm and fuzzy. He hardly ever calls her Lucy, let alone uses the nickname the other rookies have for her, but it sounds nice coming from him. 

Tim unpacks a few essentials and she does the same, settling in. The domesticity of their stuff sitting side by side in the bathroom is not lost on her, but she stuffs it in a box for further analysis when they’re back in LA, maybe even something she’ll unravel with Rosa during her next session.

“I thought we could eat at the lodge tonight, rest, and go to bed early so we can go on a hike tomorrow. There’s a trailhead right behind here that has some great views,” Tim suggests, interrupting her thoughts.

“Sounds like a good plan. Are we getting a packed lunch?”

“It’s not that long of a hike. We’ll be back by lunchtime. I thought I’d ease you in, Boot.”

She rolls her eyes but appreciates it. Her body is still not back to her full physical form, and he’s trying not to make her feel unfit by doing this. The Boot does bring back some of her fire, though.

“Do you have a tougher hike planned for the next day?”

“Of course. I have to get you back in shape, don’t I?”

“Part of your TO duties and all.”

“Hey, I won’t let you do push-ups during the hike, I’m being merciful.”

She shakes her head and giggles, and she sees his face transform, Tim’s smile now bright and open. She really really likes this Tim. 

They take turns showering and changing before they go down to the restaurant, and all of it feels familiar even though they’ve never done this before. They’ve shared plenty of meals, but never on a cliff overlooking the ocean, a sliver of the moon making the water glimmer, together with the string of white Christmas lights decking the deserted patio. If she were here with anyone else, this would definitely be romantic. 

They sprinkle the meal with easy conversation, he catches her up with some of the station’s gossip they haven’t tackled in the car, as well as describing some of the places he wants to take her during their trip. It all sounds so normal and familiar she has no problem relaxing and enjoying herself – not that she had any doubts Tim would put her at ease. 

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Her uneasiness presents itself at one in the morning when she wakes herself up drenched in sweat after a nightmare. 

The room has a slight chill that makes her shiver, and she’s disoriented for a moment as the only light illuminating the room is coming from the Christmas lights behind the curtains. 

The darkness suddenly feels suffocating and her throat tightens. It gets progressively harder to breathe the more she thinks back to her nightmare, the last tendrils of her fear still clinging to her skin. 

“U-key?” Tim’s muffled voice grounds her, and while not a usual way for her to calm down, the deep timbre and the rustling of blankets comfort her more than she thought possible. 

Yet, she still can’t breathe or reply to Tim. 

“Lu?” 

Tears start streaming down her face as she forces herself to be in the moment, yet she can’t stop her thoughts from spiraling, her mind from going back to the darkness of the barrel, to her own singing voice filling what she thought would be her last moments on earth. 

She squeezes her eyes shut when Tim turns on his bedside lamp, bathing the bedroom in a yellow glow. She clenches her fists, but she still can’t stop the panic attack from developing in its full glory. By the time she feels Tim’s hands clutch her shoulder, the only thing she can do about it is to ride it out. 

The bed dips when Tim sits next to her, trying to ground her as he sits her up, the comforter pooling in her lap as he holds her shoulders firmly over her t-shirt.

“Breathe with me, Chen.” 

Lucy opens her eyes when she hears Tim’s concern, tries to focus on his barely visible face as he keeps his hands on her biceps, holding her down with gentle grounding circles over the bare skin peeking from her short sleeves. 

She tries to follow his breathing pattern, but sobs keep getting stuck in her throat, and it’s futile. 

“Tell me what helps, Lucy, but you gotta breathe,” he says, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Don’t use words, squeeze my hand once for yes, two for no. Okay?”

She brings her right hand over her left shoulder, grabbing Tim’s forearm and squeezing it firmly once. 

“That’s good. Is touching you like this okay?”

One squeeze. 

“What about copying my breathing?”

Two squeezes.

“Water?”

Two squeezes.

“Do you need deep pressure?”

At that, she can’t answer, because this is the first time she’s had someone so close to her during a panic attack. 

There’s a beat of silence while she rasps out a couple of ragged breaths and she’s sure Tim is thinking of more solutions, but the more she feels him next to her, the easier it is to differentiate reality from nightmare, thoughts of Caleb with the fact that he’s dead and he can’t hurt her anymore. 

“Should I keep talking?”

Her squeeze is so tight she can hear him exhale loudly, almost relieved, and a tad amused.

“Do you want me to tell you about the hike we’re going on later today?”

One squeeze. 

“Picture the hike then, not whatever dream you had.”

One squeeze. 

“I told you it’s a short hike, right? Well, the view from up there is still spectacular. In spring, there are wildflowers, and in the summer sometimes you can see whales peeking out of the ocean water…”

She allows the images to flow through her mind, Tim’s voice like a goodnight lullaby, and slowly the knot in her chest eases, and she can feel the wetness on her cheeks, taste the tears on her lips. 

Tim usually doesn’t talk, and this is probably the longest monologue she’s heard him say since they’ve met, but his words don’t stop. After tomorrow’s hike they move on to other hikes, other beaches, other forests, other places in the area they can visit, until her chest doesn’t feel so tight, her breathing not so ragged.

“...There’s also a little bridge we’re gonna have to cross, so I hope it’s still okay off-season, but maybe I’ll ask Bill in the morning.”

“Tim.” His name is a whisper on her lips, her throat feeling raw. 

A small smile brightens his lips. She feels exhausted and she leans into him, all of her energy drained as she rests her forehead on his collarbone, the faint echo of his heartbeat steady under her hand. 

She feels Tim cup the back of her head and scoot closer, practically wrapping her into his arms. It feels nice to be enclosed this time, Tim’s familiar scent keeping her calm. She loves the feeling of his steady heart and his solid chest under her, an anchor she can hold on when everything seems to be slipping out of her grasp. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs into his t-shirt, clutching the fabric tightly, reveling in his warmth, shifting even closer even with her legs.  

“I have nightmares, too. I’m glad I could help.”

Lucy is unsure how to respond to that, especially to his openness and vulnerability, so she simply rests into Tim’s hold, her body intertwined with his like a pretzel. She stays there and melts into his warmth, revels in the comfort of his arms, and for once they’re not a memory of being pulled out of darkness into the sharp sand of a desert, but they’re akin to a warm blanket enveloping her in comfort.

She knows it’s selfish of her, begging for comfort like this, especially from Tim, who is usually so against touching and closeness, but she wants to take everything he’s offering, even if it’s a one time thing. 

“Thank you,” she hums, blinking slowly as a shiver runs down her spine. 

“Hey, are you cold? Let’s get you back under the covers. That comforter is sinfully comforting,” he says, standing up and lifting her effortlessly, his arms solid under her thighs, his attempt at lightness welcomed, even though not reciprocated. 

She clings to his torso, hiding her face into his chest. He brings her with him back to the king-sized bed, pulling the duvet over her body. She cannot let go of him though, and grabs hold of his forearm, stopping Tim from going back to the cot. 

“Don’t let go just yet,” she says, her lips formulating the words before she can stop herself. 

She feels his warm body slip under the duvet as well, and he’s the one who tries to keep his distance at first, turning to face her, but leaving a foot of space between them, their only point of contact his hand in hers. It’s Lucy who slides into his arms, flattening him onto his back before she puts her ear on his chest to listen to his heartbeat, drawing comfort from its steady beat and Tim’s regular breathing. 

Tim surrenders, wrapping his arms around her and slowly stroking her hair with hypnotic gentleness. His hold is now familiar, the whooshing of his heartbeat soothing as much as his scent and the warmth of the blankets, and Lucy feels tiredness come back to her.

Tim’s fingers tangle through her hair, combing it soothingly, holding her gently in place as they both succumb to sleep in a cocoon of warmth and tangled limbs. 

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In the morning, they don’t talk about the night before, but Tim’s scent clings to Lucy’s nostrils as they get ready for the day. 

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Tim asks Bill questions about their hike during breakfast, giving Lucy even more time and space to recover from the night. 

“Bill said it’s a great trail for today. I’m game if you’re up for it.”

“Can we eat lunch up there?” Lucy asks, knowing their early start didn’t happen after they spent over an hour awake after her nightmare, her body still tired and out of sorts. 

“I think Sherry is already making us sandwiches to go,” Tim smirks, a hint of his TO persona peeking through, and Lucy revels in the familiarity of it. 

The rest of the preparation goes quickly, and before she knows up from down, Lucy is walking at a steady pace behind Tim, his dark green backpack guiding her through a field of wild grass and into a patch of woods. 

The air is thick with humidity and winter, but it’s not too cold to be out. They’re both wearing waterproof top layers and thermal shirts underneath, but the biting chill is invigorating. She’s enjoying the respite from the usually mild Los Angeles weather, even though the sun is shining just as brightly. 

They don’t talk much during the hike, except when Tim points out a sight or a treacherous part of their path, guiding her carefully up to the top. 

They reach the summit of the hill quickly, but the view is as breathtaking as Tim anticipated last night. 

They sit down on a rock, the grass caressing their legs as the wind blows stronger up here. Lucy can see the waves from the ocean crash ashore, the smell of the salt reaching her nostrils, mixing with Tim’s familiar yet unique scent. This moment feels exactly like that minute or two after a tough call, when they sit in their shop, staring straight ahead, gathering themselves before they have to get back out there. 

“Thank you for last night,” Lucy murmurs into the wind, burrowing deeper into her soft shell jacket and Tim turns to her with a smile. 

“I’ve dealt with my own share of nightmares, Chen. I just don’t know what works for you.” He looks so dejected when he says that she wants to reach out and hug him again. 

Lucy sighs. “I don’t know what works for me, either.”

“All those things I asked about last night, those are the techniques they suggested after I came back from Falluja.”

“Did they work?”

Tim exhales. “No. For me, it was being grounded in the present. Isabel helped at the beginning.”

Lucy detects the sadness in his words. He’s been divorced for over a year, yet she knows how much he misses what he and Isabel had and what he tried to recreate with Rachel. 

“You met her at the Academy, right?” Lucy asks, feeling like this is the time for such personal questions. 

Tim nods. “We were tight just like you are with West and Nolan, and we loved being assigned to Mid-Wilshire when the time came.”

“You had to sneak around at first, though. Dating is frowned upon with rookies.”

Tim has a fond smile on his lips then. “We were outed a month in. Her TO caught us kissing outside the sally port so we had to make it public knowledge.”

“And it didn’t tank her career?” Lucy’s eyes widen. She remembers Talia’s words of advice, how maybe they were coming from firsthand experience. 

“We kept it professional. Everything was above board, no questions. Grey was instrumental in all that, even if he was just our sergeant at the time. After we became P2s, she transferred and we got married, then we were old news even for IA.”

“I dated Nolan at the Academy,” Lucy admits, blushing and avoiding Tim’s eyes.

“What?” he blurts, unable to hide the shock from his face before he can school his features. 

“Yeah, for the first few weeks we were rookies we were dating.”

Tim shakes his head. “You and Nolan?”

“Me and Nolan,” Lucy echoes. “He was a safe, going-nowhere relationship. And he’s a nice guy. My best friend had just cheated on me with my live-in boyfriend. Nolan was the perfect rebound, but he treated me nicely, and there were no risks with him. I was so done with jerks. I always end up dating jerks,” she adds, her mind going back to the handful of people she has dated recently, and how all of them ended up being nowhere near as kind and nice as John. 

She doesn’t trust her own judgement anymore after Caleb, so maybe she’ll spend the rest of her life alone, maybe adopting a shelter dog and calling it a day. 

Tim’s frown is still prominent, his breathing calm and collected, though he looks more tense than a second before.

“Isabel made me want to risk it,” Tim confesses, his turn to look away in the direction of the ocean. 

“I’m sorry about whatever happened with her. It sounds like she was the love of your life.”

“I thought so at the time,” Tim says, exhaling. “Now, I’m not so sure.”

His words get carried away by the breeze, and Lucy wonders what he means by that, as they stare toward the horizon, her mind going back for a moment to the safety she had felt last night, buried in Tim’s arms.

Chapter Text

The following morning greets them with a clear sky and temperatures that feel anything but wintery. They both take advantage of that incredible weather and go for the long hike that Tim had described during her panic attack, though they are happy to ignore such an elephant in the room for the time being. 

There are a lot of things that they are ignoring, after all. 

They wake up early, opting for a hearty breakfast, much to Sherry’s delight. She makes them a spread that would make any diner jealous, and Lucy indulges in pancakes, homemade jam and butter toast, yogurt and even a scone. Tim goes for a protein-heavy eggs and sausage combo, though he’s happy to eat the slice of buttered toast Lucy made for him and casually slid onto his plate without him even asking. 

When their plates are almost empty, Sherry shows up with two paper bags containing sandwiches, fruit, and an extra chocolate croissant they can bring with them for lunch, much to Lucy’s delight. There are also a couple of granola bars and a juice box, which Lucy is sure Tim will never drink. The thought of burly Bradford sipping from a paper straw brings a grin to her face.

“Where are you guys spending the day? Bill mentioned you wanted to go on a long hike,” Sherry asks, trailing off. 

“Andrew Molera Loop. Sounds challenging yet easy enough,” Tim pipes in.

“There should be some gorgeous foliage. I drove up the coast a couple of days ago and it was lovely. You’re lucky to go there off-season, that’s the best trail for wintertime.”

“Bill might have mentioned it to me last night,” Tim stage-whispers, bringing a smile to Lucy’s face as Sherry chuckles in understanding. 

“The man is biased. That’s where he proposed,” Sherry reminisces with a smile on her face. 

“In December?” Lucy asks, her eyes sparkling in anticipation of the story the older woman is about to tell, the glint in her eyes a tell that it’s gonna be a good one.

“May. Every flower was in bloom, and he’s lucky I don’t have any allergies,” Sherry jokes. 

“That must have been amazing,” Lucy sighs, her gaze suddenly sad. 

Lucy perks up when Sherry says: “I’ll show you some pictures of that day when you guys get back tonight.”

“You two are the cutest,” Lucy adds with a smile. 

Tim rolls his eyes, but he has to agree with his rookie, these two really are picture-perfect and a testament to what finding true love looks like. He’s a little jealous, but also pretty happy for Sherry and Bill. It’s not jealousy per se that grips his heart, but the knowledge that he might never share this does make his heart clench. 

They return to their rooms to stash their lunch and their water bottles in their respective backpacks, tie their hiking boots, then they’re off to Tim’s truck, driving the short distance to the trailhead. 

The early morning brings stunning views of the ocean, the water sparkling in the sunlight, distant clouds gathering at the horizon, but the sky so far is a colorful mix of dawn oranges, pinks, and blues.

The air smells of redwoods and ocean by the time they reach the entrance of the State Park where the trail begins. The parking lot is almost deserted, only a couple of cars and a camping van sitting there. 

Tim stands in front of a large map displaying the trails available, the nature they might encounter during their hike, and some tips about equipment and animals. He traces the trail with his finger, almost as if he were memorizing the twists and turns, before he turns to Lucy. 

“Are you up for this?” he asks, her last moment to back out and choose an easier trail. “It’s gonna be around four or five hours, give or take.”

Lucy nods, steeling her own resolve. She might not be in tip-top shape, but she can tackle an eight-mile loop. 

“Are you going to march down this trail or can we enjoy the scenery with breaks, too?”

Tim rolls his eyes, but he nods. “Of course we’ll take breaks, I’m not a monster.”

“You are a former soldier though. And my TO.”

“Whenever you’re chasing the shop or doing push-ups is for your own good, Chen.”

“Yeah, right,” she says, smirking in his direction. Tim frowns, but then lets it go, and the bantering feels familiar, the easiness of their teasing something from before she’s glad Caleb hasn’t tainted in any way. 

They are awkward, of course, but this is them, normally interacting with each other, and she couldn’t be more grateful for this sense of normalcy these conversations give her. 

They start their trail crossing a bridge, the water gurgling happily between the rocks as they head in the direction marked by the path. 

“Have you ever been here, on this trail?” Lucy asks, breaking the quiet of the sandy path leading to the beach. 

“First time. I’ve hiked other areas, but never here,” Tim replies, his eyes scanning the scenery as the cluster of trees opens up to reveal lower bushes and the line of the ocean in the distance. 

“Did Isabel like hiking?” Lucy pokes, winning a sigh from Tim. 

“Not particularly. She loved the beach, though, so I might have convinced her to come here,” he says, a wistful look on his face. 

“Beach honeymoon, then?”

Tim chuckles. “Mexico. We compromised with some sightseeing.”

“Is that why you hate the beach so fiercely?”

“I told you, I don’t like the ocean. We spent plenty of time in our private pool during our honeymoon and I was fine. The ocean is a giant dumpster, so no thank you,” he adds. 

Lucy wants to retort, but there’s a steep climb that makes her conserve her breath for the following couple of minutes. 

“So a sightseeing holiday would be your go-to choice?” she asks him when they’re back on a flat surface and her breathing is more human than a dog panting. 

“Yeah. Or this. I’ve always wanted to visit all the national parks. I bet you’re a beach vacation type, too,” he adds, deflecting. 

Lucy treasures the tidbits of Tim Bradford he’s revealing, and she’s happy to answer with equal honesty. 

“I like sightseeing, walking around until you can’t feel your feet and then eat some amazing food and do it again the next few days. I see the point of a relaxing holiday, but usually I go for the type of vacations you need extra days off to recover from,” she says, grinning. 

“Yeah, those are good ones.”

“This is my first proper vacation in years,” she admits, grateful that her rosy cheeks can be covered by the strenuous hike. Money was tight after she left grad school and before she entered the Academy, and then she was solely focused on becoming a cop, and that didn’t allow time off.

“Same. I honestly think my last true vacation, aside from visiting Genny, really was my honeymoon.”

Lucy’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Isabel started UC ops not even two years after we got married, and she just wanted to be at home after she returned from those. Before that we were still P2s, with a mortgage, I figured we’d have time when we were more established in our careers,” he says, a tinge of wistfulness to his tone.

Silence lingers between them, Lucy processing the fact that she’s apparently important enough to take a week off work, and Tim doing the same. 

The awkwardness grows thicker as the trees grow thinner between them, until the path opens up to a clearing and they can see the ocean. 

“You could’ve brought Rachel here,” Lucy says, then she wonders: “Did you ask her and she bailed? Is that why you asked me?”

Tim’s eyes widen, and he looks shy, all of a sudden. 

“What? I know she loves the ocean. Hiking maybe not so much, but she’d love coming here. You should take her in spring or summer,” Lucy continues, though Tim looks even more embarrassed. 

“We broke up,” he admits, taking a deep breath, his gaze directed to the waves in the distance. “I broke up with her.”

“Oh, Tim…”

“She got her dream job in New York. I know long distance doesn’t work,” he admits. “I’ve been in a relationship by myself for way too long. I want the day-to-day, the domesticity, not…phone calls, texts, and FaceTime.”

He’s full-on blushing then, and he can’t meet her eyes, but she understands where he’s coming from. And yes, Rachel is great, but having her far away after spending two years in a marriage without a wife really sounds harder than it needs to be; his logic is solid. 

“I’m sorry. You seemed to really like her.”

Tim doesn’t say anything, he just shakes his head and keeps on walking, leading them closer and closer to the ocean, Lucy’s thoughts swirling around their last conversation as they walk in silence. 

They decide to stop with a shared, silent understanding, splitting a granola bar and drinking some water and the juice boxes while they look at the beautiful scenery. There are seals sunbathing on the rocks, and at some point, Lucy swears she saw a whale come up to the surface. 

Their eyes widen even further as they start walking and the woods become a masterpiece of yellows, oranges, and reds. Lucy gasps at the sight, shocked by the abundance of colors and leaves. 

It feels like they’re entering a fairytale forest, leading them up to big and secluded benches where they can actually have lunch, surrounded by fall colors and incredible views of the ocean. Forgotten are the emotional topics of conversation from before, the sight so mesmerizing they both forget anything but the beauty in front of them. 

Lucy can’t help but sit right next to Tim, their thighs flush, seeking his proximity, both of them facing the ocean. The beautiful views are almost overwhelmingly so, and Tim grounds her in the present, in the fact that this is her reality, that she’s here. 

“Thank you for reminding me that I’m still alive to see this,” she says, her eyes locking with his. 

Tim blinks, and she can almost see the emotions that stirs in him, the way he swallows the lump in his throat a tell that she doesn’t miss. She feels her eyes wet, but there’s a mirror in front of her in Tim’s, too.

“Goes both ways. Sometimes I forget in the grind of everyday police work.”

Lucy stares straight ahead and allows the sounds of the woods and the ocean to calm her racing heart. She feels the immense urge to hug Tim, to thank him for everything, to rest her head on his shoulder and ground herself, but she pulls herself back, takes a bite of her sandwich instead. 

The immense urge to kiss him within an inch of their lives is harder to rein in, though, so she thinks back to working together and their partnership, instead of daydreaming about a relationship with him.

She knows Tim puts up protective walls when they do the job and they come across tough cases, and she’s grateful he’s teaching her how to build some of these walls. Still, she wants to be a police officer to help people, and that will obviously cross over some of her walls and dismantle them. She loves how both of these ways to be a police officer can bring about great results, and she knows this is what makes their partnership, their mentorship, work so efficiently. 

“I am so glad you’re my TO, and I can’t believe I’m saying this. First-day Lucy would balk at me,” she rushes to add, winning a chuckle from Tim. 

“I honestly never thought you’d survive a month as my rookie,” Tim admits. “I did like your fire and your defiance, but I thought you were too soft, too unsure. Boy, was I wrong…”

He trails off, and she can’t look at him or she’ll reveal her burning embarrassment at the compliment. They are so rare, and his praise is something she constantly craves while they’re riding together. Here though, in this magical slice of the world, it seems like all the boundaries and rules they have in Los Angeles have completely vanished. 

It doesn’t help that she suddenly knows he’s a free man, and an attractive one at that, in spite of the multiple layers of clothing between them.

Lucy decides that she needs to stop her mind from wandering, so the vulnerability disappears as they finish their sandwiches, pack up the remains of their lunch, and make their way back to finish the loop. 

On the trail, they joke and tease one another, the conversation spanning from Top Chef episodes to dog breeds, and Lucy is almost surprised by how fast they get back to the parking lot. 

“Pitbulls and terriers are the most misunderstood breeds and that’s final,” she says, challenging Tim for one last time. 

Tim chuckles then. “Fine. I still love Malinois because I’ve seen what they can do to help humans in a warzone and as police dogs, though.”

“I’ll accept that reasoning,” Lucy huffs, grinning at him. “You should come with me to the shelter. Bruno would love to meet you, even if he’s a German Shepherd.”

“Lucy, I’m not getting a dog. I am barely home as it is. Who would take care of him?”

“You could train him as a K9 and he could ride with us?” she proposes, winning an amused snort and a shake of his head from Tim. 

“You know they get them as teeny tiny puppies to train them, right?”

“I know. I’ve asked the Sergeant in the K9 unit to tell me when they get the new puppies so I can go down and see how adorable they are and maybe name one or two.”

Tim shakes his head, retrieving the keys of his truck then opening to door for Lucy and her smug smile, his amusement relaxing all of his features. 

“Maybe I’ll name one Bradford,” she adds, poking him once more, but Tim decides not to engage. “Or maybe one of your nicknames when you were a kid. Did you have any nicknames?”

“No.”

“Well, Tim is a nickname, Timothy.”

The way he grimaces is too good to pass up on, and she knows she needs to remember his aversion to using his full name mockingly in the future.

“Only Angela calls me Timothy. Please don’t.” 

“Uh uh,” Lucy grins, loving the fact that now she has some ammo against her TO. “Timmy?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll just look at your facial expressions and decide, I don’t need much,” she adds, turning as fully as her seat belt allows to look at his microexpressions. It doesn’t hurt that he’s pleasantly flushed and sunkissed, and he looks delicious with a soft, amused smile on his face. “Timmy was probably Genny’s nickname for you anyway,” she concludes, sighing.  “Any Australian friends who called you Tim-Tam?”

Tim frowns. “What?”

“It’s a chocolate cookie. I still remember them from my backpacking trip in college. I’ll see if I can find it in a specialty store and bring it to you.” Lucy smacks her lips, then shakes her head. “Too sweet as a nickname for you.”

“Chen –”

“Tim-Tim, then?”

The smirk disappears behind a hard mask and Tim almost flinches at that, so Lucy knows this was the wrong nickname to bring up. 

“Lucy –”

“I’m sorry, okay, I’ll stop.”

“Thank you,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate further. Not until they’ve reached the main road again and they’re cruising comfortably, his loud exhale catching Lucy’s attention. “My dad used to call me Tim-Tim. Usually before he shouted at me, berated me, or he started throwing his fists around,” he admits, and Lucy wants to grab his hand and hold it tightly when she sees the expression on his face. 

“Sorry. Again.” Her heart breaks for the little boy that Tim was, the one she can almost see behind the pain in his eyes. She really wants to pull him into a hug and never let go.

“You couldn’t have known.”

Lucy sighs. “I’ll just call you Tim.”

“Not many people call me Tim, you know? I’m mostly just Bradford,” he adds, and suddenly, she feels the privilege of calling him Tim. The familiarity that it’s being so close to him that she can call him by his first name. 

“I’m glad you’re Tim to me,” she says, grinning at him. 

The trip back to the lodge feels much shorter, and they don’t even mind when Sherry hounds them about the trail, asking for photos and tales from the hike. Lucy is more than happy to share, though Tim is quick to dismiss Sherry and head for the first shower. 

Sherry, in return, has brought her engagement and wedding album, and Lucy beams at the photo of a much younger Bill and Sherry in the middle of the wildflowers, surrounded by the beauty of Big Sur, Bill on one knee with a ring, and Sherry openly crying. 

“You guys were picture-perfect,” Lucy sighs, the zing of jealousy at the idea of such an intimate, heartfelt proposal that she knows she’ll never get. 

Her heart still needs to make peace with the fact that she’s never going to put herself out there again, and that a proposal is most likely not in her cards anymore. 

“I’m so glad he roped my sister into coming with a camera. And that this time she remembered to put the film in it!” 

Lucy giggles, yanked out of her spiraling thoughts by the joke. “What?”

“When we did our wedding photoshoot, she conveniently forgot. We had to go back a year later, wear our wedding clothes again, to get the same effect. Except I was four months pregnant by then and it was not easy to hide my belly, or to fit into my wedding dress again,” Sherry laughs. 

She points out to herself in her wedding dress, and Lucy can see a barely visible roundness. 

“That’s Michael,” Sherry giggles, winning a laugh from Lucy, too. “Are you sure you’re single? Because my Thomas is just about your age, and I think you’d be perfect for each other.”

“Oh, no, Sherry. I’m not dating anyone, and I’ve had a…traumatic experience during my last date, so I’m not looking for anything romantic now. I might join a nunnery, but definitely no more boyfriends for me.”

“Not even Tim?”

Lucy blushes, but shakes her head. Tim really is the only person she could feel comfortable enough to date now, maybe for the rest of her life, though she knows it’s not possible to even entertain the thought of dating him. 

“Definitely not Tim. He’s my boss.”

“Ugh, that’s too bad. You guys are cute together.”

“Sherry!”

Luckily, Lucy is saved from further embarrassment by a freshly showered Tim, returning to the lobby to tell Lucy that the bathroom is free. 

She ignores how good he looks with his hair still damp and his cheeks still flushed from the shower, and focuses on going back to their room instead.

In another life, maybe she could’ve dated Tim, but not in this one. Still, she hopes to find someone and build something like Bill and Sherry have, even though she is aware she’ll be more likely to become celibate for the rest of her life than to find her soulmate.

Chapter Text

When Rosa clears Lucy for active duty a week before Christmas, Lucy is not sure if she wants to rejoice or pretend it hasn’t happened. 

She has felt more centered since coming back from Big Sur, but the idea of diving back into danger is still making her twitchy. Tim had helped ground her and center her again after her trauma, but she’s not sure how well she’s going to handle dealing with other people’s worst days. 

Jackson is quite excited to drive them both to work, and part of her knows she can’t linger too long during her leave or she’ll risk her spot in the FTO program in the first place. Still, Grey has been very accommodating in her recovery, both physical and psychological, and she can’t be more grateful for her Watch Commander. 

It feels like a lifetime since she has worn her uniform, yet it still makes her feel comfortable, strong, as if the layer of wool was some kind of body armor more than the Kevlar she’s actually wearing underneath. The weight of the duty belt is familiar, the pounding of her boots on the floor a sound that brings her back to who she was, the officer without trauma, the confident rookie who drove Tim crazy on a daily basis. 

She does miss Bradford when she’s assigned to ride with Harper, though she understands the reason for the switch. They need some time apart, especially after spending a week on vacation together, and she needs to re-establish who she is as a police officer without him coddling her too much. He knows her trauma, he has helped her through it, and she deserves a fresh start with someone who has lived through something similar and survived to tell the story. 

Plus, Nyla Harper is quite fun and snarky to be around, and her dry humor and roughness around the edges make Lucy feel just as comfortable as if she were riding with Bradford. Also, she doesn’t wear cologne, which reminds her of being wrapped in lodge sheets in a purely platonic way.

Christmas and the dreaded Secret Santa party are getting closer as Lucy wraps up her second shift, so she decides to spend some time with the shelter puppies to clear her head and think about Tim’s gift that she still needs to find. 

The moment she meets Kojo, she knows she’s in love. 

The sixty-pound Pitbull-terrier mix is equally sweet, playful, and lazy as they come, and Lucy can’t help but say yes when they ask her to foster him for a few weeks. They’re trying to make room at the shelter before the holidays, knowing the number of people who gift animals and then promptly return or abandon them when they realize the amount of dedication needed. Lucy is more than happy to keep him around for a bit and shower the good dog with love. She’s also thinking about adopting a dog, and Kojo could be the perfect candidate. Rosa approved of her idea, so Lucy quickly signs all the paperwork to bring Kojo home.

The only problem about Kojo is that his house training is minimal, and by the time she comes home in the middle of her second shift, she can only prove Bradford right, that having a dog might be too big a responsibility for a full-time officer. 

Harper had told her she wouldn’t take her to her home during their lunch break after her neighbor had called (“I’m eating my tacos in peace so keep me out of your mutt drama”), so Tim had volunteered. Yet, she wishes she had come by herself when they see how Kojo has practically destroyed her home – Jackson’s stuff above all. 

Tim’s smug smirk makes her want to both sucker-punch him and bury herself into his chest to cry. She does neither of those things, luckily.

The rest of her day passes with Kojo’s misbehaving looming like a cloud over Lucy, making her question all of her choices. 

After they’ve changed out of uniform and they’re finally off duty, Lucy corners Tim near his truck, needing his reassuring presence and his firm stance with Kojo.

“Can you come with me to bring Kojo back to the shelter? I guess I’m not cut out to be a dog parent,” she says, sighing in disappointment. 

She thought she could do this, but maybe she’s not quite ready to take care of someone else besides herself. 

Tim agrees right away, his face neutral, but clearly, he’s doing it for her. He’s been tough and dismissive of Kojo so far, his voice stern and commanding while he spoke to the dog, yet he didn’t give any butt scratches or cuddled him too much – she wasn’t expecting Tim to use a full-on baby voice on Kojo, but maybe a bit more loving, since she knows for a fact that he loves dogs. 

Still, Kojo has eyes only for Tim as they ride in her car to the shelter, the puppy staring at him from the backseat of her car with his tongue lolling out, his eyes bouncing between the two people in the front.

“What’s gonna happen to Kojo, now?” Tim asks conversationally, his eyes on the road, though he looks strangely interested in her answer. 

“I think they need to find another foster home for him. Most likely, he’ll spend Christmas at the shelter,” Lucy says, mulling over possible options as the car falls silent. 

It occurs to her as they turn into the shelter’s road what a possible solution might be. She knows it would be ideal, but she doesn’t know if it could actually work. Still, she wants to be brave and ask.

They are in the parking lot, engine off, when Lucy takes a deep breath and asks: “What if you keep Kojo until January?”

Tim frowns, turning to her with a question in his eyes. 

“Shelters are usually full around Christmas, I agreed to keep Kojo until the end of the holidays, make sure they can find good homes for displaced dogs first. Do you think we can switch homes and you keep him? He really likes you,” she pushes, and Kojo adds his own weight when he nuzzles Tim’s shoulder and huffs, almost making Bradford smile. 

“Really, Chen?”

Lucy sighs, trying not to waver under Tim’s stern look. “Really.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Lucy turns fully to the backseat, scratching Kojo’s under the jaw, the dog closing his eyes in bliss, before she starts speaking. 

“You really helped me during the little time we shared a home. You brought back joy and laughter, and I’m sorry I can’t be your forever home,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she moves closer and closer to Kojo’s ear. “You are the best boy, Kojo.”

Kojo whines, nuzzling Lucy’s cheek, then turning to Tim, his big eyes wide and pleading.

“You two are guilt-tripping me into this, aren’t you?” Tim says, his smile growing. 

“I’m just loving on Kojo.”

“Uh uh,” Tim snorts, now fully amused. 

Lucy keeps cuddling the dog until Tim huffs a “Fine! I’ll keep the dog. But only until January, okay? Then he has to find his own home.”

Lucy squishes Kojo closer to her, giggling, before she lets go of the dog and throws her arms around Tim on instinct. She whispers “Thank you!” before she realizes how close her lips are to his ear, and she suddenly knows that she’s screwed. 

It takes him a second to reciprocate, but when he does, Lucy melts. Her whole body is warm and the safety of Tim’s arms is unmatched. Being enveloped by Tim Bradford is comfortable and solid, yet soft; it’s a place she’s not very keen on leaving. She liked it in Big Sur, but she likes it even more now, when everything feels more real than in the distant reality of their vacation.

Their hug might last only for a few seconds, but the thrill of it and the tingles down Lucy’s spine last much longer. She might be beet red by the time they pull away, but Tim also looks taken aback by what happened. 

The awkwardness dissipates as they leave the parking lot of the shelter to swing by Lucy’s apartment to gather all of Kojo’s supplies and bring them to Tim’s house.

She has been to Tim’s house only a couple of times, so Lucy curiously looks around after entering. She admits she likes his space: even though it feels a bit impersonal, there’s a lot of great natural light, and the neutral colors give out a sense of calm and relaxation. 

It doesn’t look very lived in, unlike her apartment, but she assumes it’s much easier for neat-freak, military-precision Tim to keep everything tidy when it’s just him making messes. 

She looks at Tim and Kojo together, how they are bonding, and something warm tangles in her chest, something she can’t name, but that suddenly makes her less anxious to return to work tomorrow morning, knowing that this man will be beside her all shift. 

“Okay, Kojo. If you as much as touch one of my socks, you’re going back to the shelter, alright?” Tim says to the dog using his best TO voice. Kojo merely whines, looking in Lucy’s direction for reassurance. 

“I can’t help you here,” she adds. “He’s my boss, too.”

Tim rolls his eyes at her before her face crumbles and she starts grinning at him and the dog. 

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Her first day back riding with Tim is incredibly unremarkable, and she’s both grateful and a bit concerned that Tim is coddling her. Harper hadn’t coddled her, she had challenged her to a sparring session in a sewer instead. While Lucy likes the idea of easing back into policework, she doesn’t want to turtle up and retreat to a place where she fears her own shadow. 

By the time their second shift rolls around and she finds herself de-escalating a gas station armed robbery with a guy dressed up as Santa and looting the place using a burlap sack, she knows for a fact that her first day was a fluke, and that she and Bradford are back in business. 

“At least these criminals keep up with holiday themes?” Tim shrugs while they go back on patrol after dropping off their suspect in holding. 

“Not sure if it’s a good thing,” Lucy adds, her smile dimming. “It doesn’t feel much like Christmas to me, though.”

Tim exhales loudly, merging onto a different lane before he answers. “The lack of snow in Los Angeles doesn't help. It’s barely even cold this year,” he says, sharing a quick glance with her. Lucy promptly looks away. 

"That's true,” she murmurs. 

Silence lingers in their shop for a beat, the radio crackling with information from Dispatch, but nothing they have to respond to. 

“Don’t force it, okay?” Tim says, his voice serious but gentle. “It makes sense not to be in the mood for cheering and holly jolly caroling. You can always work, I have picked up a couple of shifts for Hernandez and Reeves ‘cause they’ve got babies at home and they deserve to celebrate. I’m not even visiting my sister this year,” he adds. 

“I’m sorry you took your vacation days with me and you can’t see her for Christmas.”

Tim shakes his head. “I have plenty of vacation days, Chen, you’re fine. They’re going to Rob’s parents in Ohio. Her husband’s. I’ll probably get Easter with them, or I’ll try to see them this summer.”

“Still,” she says, shaking her head. “Thank you for taking time off to help me.”

Tim doesn’t say anything, he just nods and gives her a small tug of his lips in acknowledgement, yet it feels monumental. 

His words stay with her, and maybe her Christmas spirit is shot, but her own spirits have been lifted. She can deal with her own hangups about Christmas with a nice session with the boxing sack after shift, the call of Mid-Wilshire’s gym like a siren song.

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Lucy can’t stop fiddling with her moonstone ring during her therapy session. 

She twists it around her right ring finger, the weight of it welcomed yet now unfamiliar after not having felt it since the barrel. Her thumb touches the metal, warmed by her skin. It had been just as warm after Tim had held it, then tossed it back to her.

Rosa has asked a question, but Lucy has totally spaced out, remembering her conversation with Tim in the Mid-Wilshire gym the previous evening. 

“It wasn’t your Day of Death, Officer Chen. It was the first day of the rest of your life, and no one can take that away from you.”

“Lucy?” Rosa’s voice finally pierces through the memories that have her in a chokehold. “What’s on your mind?”

Lucy takes a deep breath, trying to shake herself out of it. 

“Tim gave me my ring back last night,” she says, her words barely above a whisper. When Rosa’s eyes widen, Lucy registers how her phrasing might sound like and she backtracks. “This ring,” she says, showing it to her. “Not an engagement ring or whatever. We’re not…He’s not…”

Rosa nods, her look and a small hand gesture pushing Lucy to share more. 

“I’ve had this ring for so long. I found it randomly with my Aunt Amy at a little market, and it was relatively cheap. Nothing special, but fancy enough for a date night, you know?” 

“Yeah, it’s a nice ring.”

“I was wearing it when Caleb took me,” Lucy says, exhaling loudly, her words settling in the universe. “I tossed it out of the barrel before I got in. It was my last hope. And Tim found it. Found me,” she breathes out, her words soft, the lump in her throat hard to swallow. 

“You didn’t know he found you using the ring, did you?”

Lucy shakes her head. “We never talked about that day. Not the details.”

“What happened last night, then? Did you and Tim have a conversation about Caleb?”

Lucy shakes her head again. “I was feeling angry with myself and upset with my slow progress and taking it out at the station’s gym, and Tim came. He gave me a new perspective, and I just…I think I’ve been spiraling a bit since then,” she admits, because she knows Rosa can keep all her secrets, even when she blushes like mad. 

“What kind of new perspective?”

“That the tattoo on my skin can be the mark of the first day of the rest of my life, the day I didn’t die. And now I don’t think I’ll laser it off. I don’t think I can.”

Rosa makes a little note in her clipboard pad, then drops it on the coffee table between them. 

“Do you agree with Tim?”

Lucy tries to articulate what has been swirling in her head since she left the gym, her thoughts jumbled. 

“I don’t think I am the same Lucy I was before Caleb. I can’t be the same.”

“No, you won’t be. But what about this new Lucy, does she feel like there’s a lot in the rest of her life?”

Lucy doesn’t know how to answer. She opens her mouth to say as much, then closes it. 

“Visualize it. Close your eyes.” Rosa’s voice is encouraging, gentle.

Lucy does as instructed, trying to focus only on Rosa’s words. 

“Think about your life in five or ten years. Are you still going to be a police officer?”

Lucy imagines herself in the same locker room, putting on the uniform, but with five or ten years of wear and tear on her face. While maybe that’s not exactly what she pictures, she can see herself as a detective, or maybe in some kind of specialized unit. She has a knack for dealing with young victims, so that might be a path. UC also sounds intriguing, the idea of becoming someone else and catching dangerous criminals appealing to her. Still, there’s time to decide. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely gonna be a cop in five or ten years,” she says, sure of herself. 

“What about your friends? Do you think they’re long-term friends?” 

She doesn’t even have to think about Jackson being there for her in ten years. “Yeah. Unless Jackson moves to Monrovia or something, then I might never see him, but we’ll still send each other memes and talk on the phone for hours about Top Chef. If Top Chef is still on in ten years.” 

The idea brings a smile to her face, even if it’s silly. 

“I think the others at Mid-Wilshire will still be my friends. Nolan, but also Lopez. Harper is scary, but I think we could be friends when I’m not a rookie anymore. And Smitty hopefully would have retired in ten years.” She giggles at the visual of Smitty in front of his Shangri-La trailer, drinking margaritas next to a kiddie pool. 

“What about Tim? Are you still going to be friends?” Rosa’s voice interrupts her silly visualization of Smitty, almost making Lucy open her eyes. 

“I owe him my life, and my career,” Lucy says, her voice lower. 

She tries to picture an older Tim, with more laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, yet still handsome as sin. He could be a sergeant in ten years, maybe even Watch Commander, considering Grey might have also retired by then. Tim would be an amazing leader, she knows he deserves the promotion, and she’s been more than happy to help him study during their trip.

She pictures the two of them paintballing like they’ve been doing on and off since she dragged him the first time. Slow walks with Kojo, who is now an old puppy but who still loves hiking. She imagines lunch at the food trucks, maybe even riding together sometimes, as a special throwback to her rookie days. 

“Jackson might be my best friend but Tim gets me in a way that nobody else does,” Lucy admits, warmth spreading through her chest. “We can understand each other without talking because of the job, but it’s natural to do that outside of work, too.”

“That’s special,” Rosa hums, diplomatic and serious. 

“Yeah, not what I was expecting my relationship with my TO to be like. Saving each other’s life? Maybe. But never to these extremes.” Lucy opens her eyes, though Rosa looks blurry, so she closes them again. “Tim got shot on my second day on the job. I pulled him to safety and made sure he wasn’t bleeding out.”

“Do you think that’s why he was so persistent in finding you?” 

Lucy thinks for a moment about the way Tim looks at her sometimes, especially after the barrel, or the way he was looking at her in Big Sur, and the awe definitely doesn’t scream evening the odds. 

“No, I don’t think that’s it. We care about each other. We are always at each other’s six. That’s deeper than it was on our second day together.”

“What about when you aren’t his rookie anymore. Do you think you’ll still have that special connection?”

The question makes Lucy think. And dream.

“I hope so. I hope it’ll be even more special by then. I doubt we’ll get a chance to ride together much, especially if he gets another rookie, even less if he becomes a sergeant and has to change divisions. But that’s a while away, and we’ll probably hash that out when we need to cross that bridge,” Lucy says, suddenly uncomfortable at the mere idea of not seeing Tim every day. 

“So that’s another constant in your life, right? Tim?”

“Of course,” Lucy nods, opening her eyes, the warmth enveloping her at the idea of Tim being a constant in her life making her feel tingly. “On paper we’re so different, but we get each other. I don’t want him out of my life after my training is done.”

The warmth of that realization cracks her chest wide open, and the deep breath she takes feels shaky. Tim brings her peace, and she doesn’t want to let go of that, no matter what that closeness looks like.

“So nurture your relationship with him. Treat him as your friend, even though he wants to be professional. Or turn it toward friendship when your professional relationship is established. Deepen that connection until then.”

Rosa has a knowing look Lucy doesn’t know how to interpret, but she’s spiraling enough as it is. She’ll ask about her smirking next time, because the swirling image of kissing Tim to an inch of their lives to “deepen their connection” suddenly can’t leave her alone. 

Maybe she does crave a deeper connection with her TO, after all.

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Chapter Text

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Every morning now Lucy wakes up drenched in sweat, and only two-thirds of the time it’s because she dreams about being back in the barrel. The other third, she has visions of Tim on top of her, his perfect chest on display, his lips on her skin, his hands setting her skin on fire. 

When she groans on those mornings, it’s definitely not in pain. 

At first, she tries to fight the images, cool herself with a freezing shower, until she’s too keyed up to do anything else but give into the desire. 

She hides her newly discovered feelings into the deepest corner of her heart and tries to act normal around Tim, and she seems to be succeeding. 

Lucy is worried about the Secret Santa evening, though. First and foremost, because they won’t have the safety of their uniforms to hide behind, and secondly because she’s worried he’s going to hate her gift. 

She enters the back room of Mack’s Pub, a shiver running down her spine at the memory of the last time she went to a bar. She does have a feeling they’re not in the back room at Las Torres for exactly the same reason why she’s stalling at the threshold. 

She can smell the spilled beer and the clinking of glasses, the hum of voices that used to be a comfort is now making her hands shake. She has some good memories of going to bars, but Caleb seems to have overshadowed all of them.

“Hey!” Tim’s unmistakable voice cuts through the white noise and the building ringing in her ears. “You okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing.

Slowly, he guides her inside the bar to a quieter corner, his hand on her wrist and then on the small of her back grounding her. He’s blocking the rest of the room from her, his imposing figure between her and the other patrons, his sweater like a shield for her impending breakdown. 

“I forgot that we were doing this in a bar.”

Tim exhales, nodding in understanding, his back even straighter now and more protective. Her eyes lock with his in the dim light, concern shining bright, but luckily she can’t see any pity there. 

“Take as much time as you need,” he says, and being encompassed by him doesn’t feel suffocating at all, but like the softest of blankets as you’re watching your comfort show. 

“I like your choice of an ugly sweater,” he says, attempting a deflection, his finger stroking one of the tiny trees knitted on her sweater. Her shoulder tingles where he has touched her even through the layers of clothing.

She focuses her attention better on Tim’s attire, grinning when she sees the subtle pattern of white reindeer on the red background, together with snowflakes and tiny Christmas trees. 

“Tim Bradford owns an ugly Christmas sweater?” she says, some of her panic dissipating at the unusual sight. 

“Just for this event. And I have this simply because Lopez bought it. I would’ve been fine wearing a red shirt or something.”

“But the Secret Santa party requires ugly Christmas sweaters. There’s a contest,” she adds, her whole body relaxing, her brain shifting gears. “Jackson is wearing one with a tree that lights up!”

Tim turns slowly to spot Jackson twinkling near the bar counter, his head bobbing in time with the bar background music. 

“Treasure the sight, Boot,” he says, his smile now full. 

And she does. Because even though the sweater is ridiculous, it fits Tim perfectly, and gives him a playful edge that she knows he has but he’s very reluctant to show the world. It’s his competitive side that wants to turn small challenges into bets, the side that pushes her to be a better cop every day. His features are relaxed now, softer, and she reaches out to squeeze his bicep on instinct, before her brain can catch up with her hands. 

“Thank you for talking me out of a panic attack.”

“You said talking works, right?” he shrugs, his posture relaxing as he gives her some room to exit from the cradle of his protective stance. He’s very nonchalant as he leads her to the rest of their cop friends, people cheering for her arrival. 

Some of her colleagues are already a couple of drinks in, but she has no intention of drinking more than a beer. She stops at the bar and orders a bottle, asking the bartender to open it in front of her. Tim doesn’t leave her side during this, his eyes carefully scanning the crowd, his warmth familiar and unassuming. 

She doesn’t mind having Tim Bradford shadow her for the rest of the evening. 

The structured part of the evening begins with the contest for the best/worst Christmas sweater, and Smitty is the winner for the fifth year in a row, wearing a red sweater with a 3D T-rex jumping out of a Christmas tree, surrounded by LED lights. It’s so crazy and so Smitty that he wins, hands down. Jackson manages to scrounge a third place and win a couple of drinks on the house. 

Next, the part that Lucy was dreading the most arrives: the Secret Santa gift exchange. 

Because there are so many participants, the table with the gifts had a little post-it with a name for every participant, and she had felt like the sneakiest of thieves when dropping her gift bag off on Bradford’s name. She sees that her slot already has a small box wrapped in golden paper and with a shiny red bow. 

They open the gifts halfway through the evening, after everyone has made it there. They pick up their gifts in alphabetical order, but they have decided to open them simultaneously.

Lucy is curious and her hands are shaking, but not because of her own present. 

When Jan finally says “Open!” she’s barely focused on unsticking the paper from her gift, her eyes trailing to Tim’s confused frown as he peers into the gift bag. 

Her heart is pounding, so she distracts herself by opening her own gift. 

She recognizes the handwriting on the card from many reports Jackson has filled out next to her, and she sighs in relief when she sees the gift certificate for a spa treatment. Which is definitely more expensive than what the rules required. 

“Lopez!” she calls out, and the woman turns to her with a knowing look. 

“I figured you deserved going a little over the budget this year,” she winks, smiling as she hugs Jackson one-armed, gushing about her new travel mug with the LAPD crest stenciled on it. 

“Lucy?”

Tim’s voice brings her back to reality, and her heart stops at the softness in his eyes. 

“Were you my Secret Santa?”

Lucy nods, the lump in her throat building considerably. Her eyes water. Maybe he wants to let her down easily and he hates her gift. Maybe she got it all wrong. 

“What am I looking at here?” he asks, pulling out the squeaky police car and the stapled folder with papers. 

“Kojo. Kojo is my present for you.”

Tim leads her to a table with better light, so that he can look at the papers. She’s also grateful she can sit down because her legs are just about to give out on her in nervousness. 

“You paid his adoption fee for me?” he says, after his eyes have scanned the papers, his face impossible to read. 

“I know you said that you’d bring him back in January, but I knew you would keep him. So this is my present for you. That, and the money clip. And the dog toy clearly is for Kojo.”

“Oh!” he gasps, looking again into the bag to see the sleek new money clip, his eyes bright. “Lucy…”

She takes a deep breath though, unable to meet his gaze. “I jumped the gun with this, didn’t I?”

Tim shakes his head, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. “No, this is…I love it.” 

His expression is soft, and his strong fingers make her whole body tingle. The air between them is charged and she almost leans in when he starts rubbing her skin with his thumb, her nervous tension replaced by anticipation. 

“I love it,” he echoes, his tone even softer. “I was planning on keeping Kojo, you’re right. You can always read me,” he adds, the admission making his ears turn pink. “Thank you, Lucy.”

“You’re welcome.” More words are stuck in her throat as they sit there, lost in the moment, the rest of the bar falling away. 

Suddenly, they’re back on a cliff, the breeze blowing around them, their bodies warm next to one another, the air charged with something unnamed. 

“Who was your Secret Santa, Bradford?” 

Lopez slams her glass on the other side of the table, and they jump apart, as if their touch had burned them. Angela’s eyes widen, an oops escaping her lips as she stares between Lucy and Tim. She looks like she’s a bit drunk, her expression loose. 

“Chen,” he says, his voice much softer than how he usually says her name around other cops. He clears his throat before he continues, shaking off the funk that she also feels. “Got me a money clip and a new dog toy for Kojo,” he says, his look saying that the fact that she also gave him Kojo is too private, something that needs to be theirs for the time being. 

“Nice, Chen,” Lopez says, studying the physical gifts with interest, then the weird tension between them. “I hope you’re driving because your roommate is just about wasted. Or West-ed?” she jokes, her weird look replaced by uncontrollable giggles. “Maybe I’m a bit drunk, too.”

Tim rolls his eyes and sighs. “You good taking Jackson home? Do you need a ride?”

“I’m good. You take Lopez home before she does something stupid.”

“Ooooh, Timothy, drop me at Wes’s place. So he can fuck the stupid out of me!” Lopez giggles and Tim groans. 

“That’s my cue to take her home. To her own bed.”

“You’re no fun, Bradford,” she almost pouts, winning a soft smile from Tim. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, steadying her when she almost trips on her heels. “Thank you again, Lucy,” he adds, his eyes lingering on hers one last time.

“See you tomorrow, Tim,” she says. 

That night, he features at the forefront of her dreams, but not because he’s saving her from the barrel. 

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Christmas Day rolls around and Lucy is happy to spend it beside Tim in a shop, eating Chinese takeout for lunch and solving a couple of heated domestics without too much violence. 

As they’re going back to the station to clock out, Lucy sighs loudly. 

“I never thought it’d be so depressing to see how many people are just forced together at family functions,” she admits. 

“Some people deserve to be alone for the holidays,” Tim agrees. 

Lucy is quiet for a beat longer, then she feels like they’re at the point in their relationship where she can ask the following question without being chewed off. 

“Was Christmas like that when you were a kid?”

Tim exhales loudly, a beat of silence stretching before he answers. “Nobody ever called the cops on us, but it was tense. Especially after my dad had a few drinks in him. Luckily my Nana kept me, Genny and my cousins busy enough to have good memories,” he says, a fond look on his face. “After she died, we just…stopped doing Christmas.”

“How old were you?” Lucy fears asking.

“Twelve.” 

Lucy’s heart breaks for the boy Tim used to be. 

“I tried to make it a good day for Genny. I became Nana for her. We took our bikes and went around the neighborhood to see the lights. I got her a stocking. Helped her bake cookies for her friend. My mom and I tried our best, but it was usually easier to be out of the house after my dad had more than two beers.”

The words are flowing out of Tim without restraint, hitting Lucy square in the gut. She definitely can’t complain about her own Christmas this year. She at least gets to see her Nana and drink tea with her after so long. 

“You’re a good brother, Tim,” she tells him, but he shakes his head.

“I haven’t seen my sister in over a year. I’m not a good brother.”

Before she can ask him more questions though, they’re pulling in the parking lot at the station, the conversation dropped by circumstances and Tim’s walls going back up, higher than ever. 

“Merry Christmas, Tim,” she says, watching as he heads to the men’s locker room. 

“Merry Christmas, Lucy.”

Her heart flutters at the sight of his smile. 

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Her Nana Mei wraps her in the tightest hug a ninety-year-old woman can manage. 

Her Cantonese is broken by sighs, sharp and soft at the same time. There’s no other language while she’s within these walls, a comfort and a place away from home like anywhere else entirely. She can smell the freshly-brewed tea and the candles burning, the familiar home brining her comfort. 

“I’ve told your mother to come and take me to visit you, but she refused,” she says, apologizing again for not visiting. 

“I could’ve come, too, Nana,” Lucy continues, her own way to apologize, her Cantonese having softer edges. She feels a little rusty, she doesn’t speak it too often these days, but the muscle memory comes back fast. 

“Nonsense, you were hurt, and I live far from you” her grandmother says, holding her hand tightly. “But you look good now, băo băo.” 

Her grandmother smiles brightly, caressing her cheek, then smiling. 

“Are you in love, my Lucy?” she asks, to which Lucy blushes a deep shade of red, deeper than her own sweater. 

“What? No. I think I’m done with love for a while,” she dismisses, shaking her head, trying to ignore the image of Tim Bradford sitting on a cliff, looking at the ocean. 

“Are you sure? Because you’re glowing with it. Did you see him before you came here?” She asks, now curious, before she gasps. “Or is it a she?”

“Oh, no, no more women for me. Or men. I was at work, remember?” Lucy stammers, though her grandmother only grins. 

“I guess he’s at work with you then,” she states, immovable. “Can you show me some pictures of your friends at work?”

“Nana!”

Her indignation goes unheard, because her grandmother just hands Lucy her own phone, practically forcing her to unlock it and show her some pictures. 

She starts with some from the Secret Santa party with Jackson and Nolan, then more of the three of them in uniform. Her Nana oooohs and awwwws at each of them, always saying how good she looks in uniform, and even how proud she is of Lucy working so hard. 

She is the only one in her family who sent her flowers after her Academy graduation through Aunt Amy, and the only person, together with Aunt Amy, who seems even remotely interested in her life and what she does as a rookie, and for that, Lucy is happy to share stories and pictures with her. 

Her Nana grabs her hand and stops her from scrolling when they get to a posed picture of Lucy with Tim during his award ceremony, his dress blues in such contrast to her plain clothes. 

“That’s him!” Her grandmother is smirking, and Lucy’s eyes widen. 

“That’s my training officer,” Lucy says, though she sounds unconvincing to her own ears. 

“Well, your aura sparkled when you saw the picture. I know what I saw,” she says, her fingers zooming onto his face in a way that is way too practiced for such an elderly woman. “He’s handsome!”

“Nana!”

“You can invite him to dinner when you get together. I’ll make him dumplings. Wait, have you made him dumplings?”

Lucy sighs. “I have.”

“And he hasn’t kissed you yet?”

“Nana!”

Her grandmother just laughs. “Your grandfather pulled out a ring after I made him my dumplings. Ah, men are just not the same anymore.”

Lucy laughs, even though she can feel the embarrassment down to her toes. Still, she knows it would be fun for Tim to meet her grandmother, if only because a lot of the qualities he finds aggravating are the result of spending so much time with Nana Mei when she was a kid. Her mother was always disappointed by whatever Lucy and her own mother had done together, yet Lucy has the fondest memories of days spent with her grandmother, cooking a feast and exploring the city together. 

“Is he kind-hearted?” Nana Mei asks, suddenly serious. 

“He’s the one who rescued me from the barrel,” Lucy admits, winning a deep exhale from her grandmother.

“Then invite him over, so that I can make him some thank you dumplings.”

Lucy smiles, squeezing her grandmother’s hand. “I will. You’ll like Tim, though he might not like that we share the same sense of humor.”

Nana Mei, as usual, doesn’t care one bit.