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"Tim!"
Lucy's voice echoes off the concrete walls of the parking garage, effective in its effort to stop Tim in his tracks. He turns to see her walking quickly toward him and he tries to ignore the gut-punch feeling that makes him stop breathing a little. Whether it's from the sight of her dark hair moving freely in the same hurried pattern as her long, colorful skirt or from the events of the past few hours, he isn't entirely sure and, today, he doesn't know which answer is more dangerous.
It had been a long, painful shift riding with Lucy and Genny. He shook away a whisper of irritation at the two women who had, essentially, gotten the better of him today. He was exhausted from a day of putting up boundaries only to have them knocked down by his little sister. And in the end, all it took was an eloquently worded “
please”
from Lucy to break him. They had won. They had been successful in convincing him to do the one thing he swore he would never do - put himself back within his father’s reach. He wasn’t sure what else there was to talk about.
It's not that he didn't love his sister or that he wasn't glad to see her or even that he didn’t want to help her. In fact, it was the opposite. If he didn't love her, her words wouldn't hurt as much. If he didn’t love her, her completely opposite interpretation of their childhood and relentless insistence that he just get over it wouldn't make him feel so invisible, so betrayed.
Genny was there . If she didn't get it, who would? He clenched his jaw against the loneliness that had clawed at him in the crowded shop all day.
And then there was Lucy.
He breathed in, bracing further against the sting of memories. It was one thing for her to tease him for stupid youthful mistakes; he had expected as much. Even, secretly, enjoyed watching her delight at the stories.
But he never expected her to take Genny's side and he never in a million years thought she would be so...unmoved by his trauma.
Tim and Lucy had lived through some of the most painful things imaginable in the relatively short time they had known each other and Tim wasn’t ignorant to the fact that Lucy had played a vital role in his healing. Somehow, with her positivity and enduring empathy, she had worked her way past the wall around Tim’s heart that had been forming for decades before they met. A wall that was built to protect him from the pain that came with caring - and the first brick had been laid by his father.
And yet, despite all efforts, Tim still cared. He cared about his sister, he cared about his job and, God help him, he cared about Lucy.
He cared about her safety, her reputation, her progress. He cared about her rambling stories and the little things that made her laugh when they rode together and, maybe more than anything else, when things hurt her, they hurt him. He thinks she knows that and he thought, maybe, it went both ways.
Maybe he was wrong though. Because the Lucy he thought he knew was not the one that rode with him today. The Lucy he knew could never hear the details of the abuse he suffered, details that no one, not even Isabel, had known and be so seemingly unaffected by it. She never would have let them be revealed against his will in the first place. Not without a fight. No, the Lucy he knew would have fought for him. She would have defended him and silenced the source of the attack, even if it was his own sister. She would have reached across the console and touched his arm, even knowing their cameras would pick up the movement. Her eyes would have been soft and caring, full of compassion but never pity. She would have said everything she needed to in a glance and if she spoke it would have been to tell him she wishes he hadn’t experienced this pain, not to compare to him to...
Tim felt the cracking in his heart getting dangerously close to the epicenter of it all - somewhere he desperately did not want to go. The point was, for the first time in their partnership, she hadn't had his back. And that hurt a place inside Tim he didn't even know how to express. He was caught in that thought, trying not to focus on why it bothered him so damn much, when she spoke again.
"Tim."
This time her voice was quiet and she was close. She stood maybe two feet from him, close enough that Tim could smell the sweetness of her perfume. Usually it made his heart race a little, but today it just made him feel sad. He hadn’t been close enough to smell it on her skin in months, not since the hug and...whatever the hell happened next. It felt like a lifetime ago and now the scent just reminded him of the distance between them.
“Tim, I’m so sorry.”
He had been avoiding her eyes, instead focusing on the faded arrow painted on the cold, hard floor as she approached and then on the silver buttons that lined her denim jacket. But now, slowly, he met her gaze. And there, mercifully, for the first time since this morning, he saw her.
His Lucy.
Her brown eyes ( God, they were beautiful) shone and he could clearly read regret in them.
“I’m
so
sorry,” she repeated. “I don’t know what came over me today and I’m - “ she swallows and he swears he sees her lip tremble. “I’m ashamed of how I acted. I guess I got caught up in meeting your sister and I was so excited to spend time with her and learn more about your past,” She wasn’t looking at him anymore, instead she kept her eyes fixed somewhere on his chest, forehead scrunched and she shook her head as if she really was confused about her own behavior.
She breathed and met his eyes again. “That I forgot about you. Not the man you used to be, but the man you are right now. The man I know. The one I’ve watched overcome so much in just the time that I’ve known him, who became better and stronger for it and who it worth protecting. My partner.” She lifted one shoulder slightly and he noticed a slight blush spread across her round cheeks. “And I was a bad partner today. I should have had your back and I didn’t. You were bombarded and I just sat there and watched it happen. I encouraged it with my silence and when I did speak…,” her voice broke and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.
“Lucy…” He would never admit it to her, but his instinct has become to rescue her from anything that brings her discomfort. What that means is something else he doesn’t want to examine quite yet.
“No,” she holds up her hand. “Let me finish.” Tim closed his mouth. As much as he hated to see her hurting, he couldn’t deny that her words were easing the ache that had settled within him.
Her voice was low and strained, “I didn’t even tell you how much I hate what happened to you. Tim,” she stares at him in a way that he swears she can see his soul and he thinks he can see hers too, “ I am so sorry .” He swallows and her lips are definitely trembling now, “You didn’t deserve any of what you went through and I hate him for hurting you,” an angry tear drops on her face and a sob catches in her throat. “You should have only felt love.”
The impact of those words cause a physical reaction in Tim. His shoulders slump forward and his knees give a little, like they might not hold up under the weight of grief and he’ll fall flat on the pavement below his feet. But he needn’t have worried because, this time, Lucy caught him. Her right arm shoots out and her palm, small and warm, finds its way to his side. The purse she was holding on her left wrist slips to the ground and, in a move that makes Tim’s heart pound in a way that he knows she can feel against his ribcage, her free hand reaches up and cradles the side of his face. Their foreheads are almost resting against one another now, but neither move to close the last inch of distance between them. Tim closes his eyes - against what, he doesn’t know. The waves of feelings, grief mixed with something akin to desire, threaten to pull him under. He is inexplicably tempted to pull her to his chest and never let her go, but apparently she isn’t done atoning for the day.
“Tim, look at me.” Her voice is a whisper and her thumb is moving in a distracting pattern on his jaw, but he concentrates on her next words like his life depended on them because, in a way he didn’t understand, he felt like it did.
“You are nothing like him.”
A strangled noise rises from Tim’s throat. “ Lucy.”
“You. Are. Nothing. Like. Him.” She punctuates her words with gentle tugs on his t-shirt and tiny movements against the stubble beneath her fingertips. He knows his eyes are wet now and he doesn’t care. “You are a good man, Tim Bradford. And I am so sorry. ”
At her sob, he breaks and his hands are immediately on her cheeks, gently wiping the tears before they could go far. One slips by, landing on her full lips and he can’t stop his thumb from following. In an instant, the air between them changes. The hurt is replaced with a different kind of pain, one that still feels good, like the spark of danger somehow makes it thrilling. Not unlike the job they do everyday. And, as it was in their partnership, there was a safety in knowing the other person wouldn’t let them run into the gunfire alone. Tim moved first. Leaning down the last few inches to meet her, his eyes drift closed once again.
“Tim?”
Startled, Tim pulls back. The voice was sharp and not at all like Lucy’s. He turns towards it and curses.
“Ashley.”