Chapter Text
Found in the dark
Broken and scarred
You were there for me
Gave you my heart
It was apart
You were the one I needed
Love like this is really hard to find
Guess I met you at the right time
Found in the Dark - Carl Storm
The lights of Tim’s truck flashed as he unlocked it, pulling open the drivers side as Lucy simultaneously opened the passenger. Leaving Lopez and Wesley’s house with a tentative plan in place to retrieve Lopez from Guatemala and the name of Jackson’s killer, in the middle of the night, side by side with Lucy felt a bit surreal. The last 72 hours had been a whirlwind and he felt like he hadn’t slept for a good part of them. First the Lopez-Evers Wedding venue had been seized. 36 hours ago, Lucy (Nova) was flirting her way out of a ticket. 18 hours ago and they were arresting players in two drug cartels. 12 hours ago he’d finished tying his bow tie, shrugged on his suit coat and started his duties as Man of Honor. 10 hours ago he was standing in Grey’s office watching security footage of his best friend being abducted and West being murdered.
Lopez is missing. Jackson is dead. Shit.
8 hours ago they were in tactical gear, breaching a warehouse and narrowly missing an explosion.
2 hours ago… he was hugging Lucy (in his clothes), telling her it was going to be okay (was it?) and preparing to put her in his bedroom. She refused (always selfless) and he left her to his couch.
117 minutes ago, he was hauling himself out of his bed, telling Wesley that they’d be right over. Lopez was located. And now it was time to retrieve her.
Tim navigated the quiet roads, his left arm braced on the window panel of the door, his head resting in his palm. He wasn’t sure what the next few days would entail. They had a name to search, a murderer to catch, covert entry to a foreign country, sicarios and corrupt cops to deal with.
Fuck.
Tim pulled his truck into his drive and glanced over to Lucy, her cheeks a bit wet from silent tears and her lip pulled into her mouth. “If we go now, we can get at least 5 hours of sleep.” He said quietly, turning the truck off and opening the door, the crew light harsh in their eyes.
“Yeah. Um, yeah. You’re right.”
Lucy followed him into his house, turning the alarm off, and immediately rearming. Kojo snuffled from his bed in the corner but was uninterested in investigating the disruption further, used to the odd hours his owner sometimes kept.
Lucy walked her way back to his couch, Tim a few steps behind her, continuing past her down the hallway. She sat down in the middle of the couch, and rubbed her hands over the tops of her legs. “Tim?” He made an inquiring nose in the back of his throat, stopping in the hallway on his way to his bedroom. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“You aren’t alone. I’m here. Kojo’s here.” He gestured to his (their) dog in the corner, a dollop of drool falling from his mouth and onto his bed.
“No, I— I don’t… I don’t want to sleep alone.”
Oh. Oh. It had been a minute since he’d slept in a bed with someone else. Rachel had moved to New York months ago. Things hadn’t had a clear ending, differences in schedules and time zones, jobs, and everything else he knew made long distance relationships not work getting in the way. But this wasn’t his hold up. It was his rookie. No, his co worker— no that wasn’t right either. His friend, better, seeking an iota of comfort in a fucking terrible moment.
If he was honest with himself (not his strongest trait), he would admit that he could use this small comfort for the next 4 hours and 55 minutes too.
“Yeah.” Decided. “C’mon.” He tilted his head towards his bedroom, hearing her shuffle down the hall after him. He heard her stop in the hall bathroom to change back into his borrowed clothes. He took the opportunity to put his pajamas back on and crawled back into his bed.
Lucy appeared in his doorway, hesitating momentarily before walking fully inside, clicking the door shut behind her. She crossed his room, Tim’s eyes watching as she went, and crawled into the left side of the bed, pulling the blankets up to the bottom of her chin. “Thank you.” She said quietly.
“Yeah.” His substitute for your welcome. He flipped the bedside lamp off and rolled onto his side to face her. “C’mere.” He said quietly, lifting his arm up in invitation. Lucy needed no other invitation and pulled herself into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin, her breath lightly ghosting over his throat, her hands balling his shirt over his stomach. “It’s going to be okay.” He dropped his hand to the back of her head, his fingers slipping through strands of her hair. He brushed his lips over the top of her forehead, and closed his eyes.
He laid there quietly, his breathing finding her rhythm and syncing. He tried to put the last few days, hours, from his mind and let Lucy’s presence be a soothing balm to his fractured heart.
Tim had traveled in all types of vehicles, by ground, by air, cargo, freight, Humvee, helicopter. You name it, he’s done it. He has his preferred methods of travel (driving) and his least (cargo), but in every way he’s traveled, it hasn’t been done under absolute secrecy. Was it still a secret if it was sanctioned by his Watch Commander? But Tim was former military, and while it had been almost fifteen years since his last tour in country, he was still able to fall back into soldier meticulously the moment they stepped into the cargo plane waiting for them in a small field in Tapachula, Mexico.
His least favorite but he’d do anything for Lopez. The cargo plane from Mexico would get them into Guatemala without raising red flags with any individuals on La Fiera’s payroll. There were only miscellaneous goods listed on the flight plan, and not three LA Police Officers, a man whose name may or may not be Max, and another man that they weren’t given the courtesy of putting a name to. Which was fine. This wasn’t a social gathering, names weren’t necessary.
Once the cargo plane landed on the outskirts of Guatemala City, they’d transfer to the Black Ops helicopter that would get them to just outside the area surrounding the cartel queenpin’s compound. Vehicles, guns, ammunition, gear, food and water provided. They had their plan (and backup plans) mapped out, their timeline secured, their individual missions set. Tim and Harper set to work surveying the property while Nolan headed into the city to borrow (steal) the architectural blueprints.
Tim was evaluating the terrain through the ground drone supplied by maybe-Max, watching the screen mounted on the controller in his hands. “On the bright side, they don’t have a tank.”
“Yeah but they’ve got everything else. I mean,” Harper scoffed, “this place is crawling with guards.”
“Cop car— he’s coming up to the house.” Harper and Tim watched the yellow striped truck stop in the driveway turnaround, the passenger side back door opened by an officer. “Well, they didn’t kill him.” He said as Wesley stepped out. Yet.
Tim moved the toggle on the controller and continued his recon of the property. “Looks like six groups, pairs, at least one with a dog—-“ Tim stopped abruptly, turning around at the sound of a vehicle coming up behind them.
Harper already had her gun out, stance sturdy and on guard. The vehicle crept up the dirt path, dust kicking up a cloud behind it as it came. “Nolan.” Harper relaxed, dropping her arms and tucking the small pistol in the back of her pants.
Nolan opened the door once he came to a stop, already speaking as he exited. “Bad news. According to the blueprints, this place is a fortress— redundant security systems, pressure-sensitive alarms.”
“But there’s good news, too, right?”
“Yes. There should be a covert way in— an access tunnel that leads to the wine cellar.”
Tim took that comment as a command and maneuvered the ground drone around the outside of the property, to place the camera in sight of the location Nolan indicated on the blueprints.
“Left….. right at the base of the house… and there. Zoom in.” Nolan let out a displeased grunt, “Damn it!”
What?” Tim asked, still focused on the access point.
“They realized it was a weakness. They put a gate on it. That was not in the plans.”
He took a deep breath, letting the disappointment wash over him.
“Can we break the lock? Uh, bump it…? Or…?”
Tim shook his head at Harper, “No. No, we’d be exposed too long. Roving patrol would spot us.” Shaking his hand in frustration, recalling memories of covert rescue missions in Iraq, “Plus, there’s no guarantee that other security measures aren’t inside.” Looking up and letting out a sigh, he turned his head in Harper and Nolan’s direction, finally looking away from the drone screen. “We have to go to Plan B.”
“I don’t like Plan B.” Harper snarled. “There are too many unknowns.”
“Would you rather stage a frontal assault on an elevated position?”
“No!” Harper slammed the clunky laptop she was using shut.
“Okay. Let me call Chen.”
Grabbing his cellphone out of his pocket, he pressed Lucy’s speed dial and put the phone to speaker. It rang twice. “Did you get her?”
Tim wished he could have said yes. “No. We’re going to Plan B.”
“I don’t like Plan B.”
Tim rolled his eyes and made a face even though Lucy wouldn’t see it, but had the benefit of Harper and Nolan catching it and making ‘I told you so’ faces in return as they turned around. “Join the club. It’s what we got.” A little bit softer, “Are you ready?”
“Uh, just let me get set up, okay? Call me when you’re in position.” Click.
Tim put his phone back into his pocket and grabbed the Black Ops walkie talkie. “Max, come in.”
“Go for Max.”
“We’re going to Plan B.”
“Ooh. Really?” Tim could hear the cringe on maybe-Max’s face through the radio channel.
“Yeah, we don’t have a choice. The pickup is at a new extraction point.”
“Copy that. We’ll be there in 60. But if you’re not there on time, we’re not waiting.”
Tim and Harper grabbed the gear for Plan B and placed it in the second SUV. “Alright. We’ve got to go get set up.”
“I’ll fall in behind and meet you at the exfil. Wait!” Both Tim and Harper turned around in unison. “We gotta alert Wesley.”
Shit. Yeah. That was part of Plan B. Tim sifted through the pile of supplies in the back of the SUV, finding a bundle of firecrackers and a small lighter. He handed them out for Nolan to take, “Start with one. If it looks like there’s no movement, set another. Space it out.”
“Got it, sir.”
The ride to the nearest medical facility was rickety, bumpy, not very long, but still managed to set both Tim and Harper further on edge. He wasn’t thrilled with Plan B either, definitely wasn’t a fan of Wesley injecting Lopez with Pitocin to start labor so they could get her out of the compound. “You have the Cervidil, right?” He asked Harper as they were pulling into the dusty drive to the facility.
“Yeah—-“
The walkie talkie crackled to life, Nolan’s voice coming over, “Guys— we got a problem.” Fuck.
“What is it?”
“They’re taking Wesley somewhere to kill him. I’m going after him.”
Tim exchanged a panicked look with Harper, “There’s no time. The chopper will be here in 30 minutes. He’ll never make it back.”
Harper closed her eyes and pressed the talk button, “John, you can’t. We have to-“
“I have to. I’d never be able to look Angela in the eyes again if I didn’t.”
“John, listen to me—“
“Harper, there’s nothing we can do to help him now.”
Tim pressed Lucy’s speed dial again, and she answered on the first ring. “Hey.”
“Hey. You got them?”
“Not yet… uh, wait. Yeah. A black SUV, yellow stripes. They have a Guatemalan police car escorting them.”
Well this was just getting even better. “How far out?”
“Um, five minutes? Maybe?”
“Alright, thanks. We got it from here.”
“Tim?” Lucy was quiet over the phone for a moment, “Please, be careful.”
Tim wanted to smile, promise her, but the best he could give her in this Plan B situation was, “I always am,” which definitely wasn’t always the case, and hung up. “You ready?”
“I told you I hated this plan, right?”
“Twice. But it’s gonna work. Element of surprise. A little shock and awe. A controlled retreat.”
In 39 years on this planet, 18 under an angry father, 8 in the military and just about 13 serving in the LAPD, Tim was used to working (and existing) under pressure, toeing lines, defending and protecting (his sister, his mom, soldiers, rookies, civilians). He was good at protecting. But one person who didn’t need protecting was the woman they were saving. Running, hardly out of manufactured labor, a bullet graze to the leg, an idling helicopter with rotor winds, and Angela ‘La Adelita’ Lopez still managed to dead center La Fiera, her body falling backwards into a flimsy chain link fence.
Damn.
After the Black Ops helicopter pilot and maybe-Max made the wise choice (at three gun points) to retrieve Nolan and Wesley from the orange grove, they were homeward bound. The travel was going to be as mediocre as it had been on the way down. But finally his friend was safe, everyone made it out of Guatemala, and he could finally sleep. The last few days, he lost track of how many it had been, the brief sleep he’d had curled around Lucy being the only restful few hours, the adrenaline, the relief, it was a cocktail made for napping. Due to his time in war zones (at home and abroad), he was capable of sleeping just about anywhere, in any position, and planned on it.
From helicopter, back to the cargo plane, from the cargo plane to a small jet outside of Mexico City that Wesley (thank God Lopez chose a man with family money) chartered to get them back to Los Angeles, Tim was able to take quite a few naps. Reset himself and allow the events of the last handful of days to settle over himself.
Jackson was still dead, but Lopez was safe. Back. She was going to Shaw Memorial from the airstrip. Between him, Harper and Nolan, they had enough emergency medical training to prevent a catastrophe, and Harper had administered the counter agent to Pitocin within the allotted time. They just really wanted to get the fuck out of Central America and back into their own territory.
Tim was exhausted, sore, but thankfully free of any injuries outside of average cuts, scrapes and bruises, and decided to skip the medical work over, as did Harper and Nolan. An ambulance, Grey and Lucy met their group at the airstrip in separate cars.
The moment he locked eyes with Lucy, he clocked the dark circles under her eyes, the slight wetness on her cheeks, her hands clasped under her chin. She was cataloging everyone as they stepped down the plane steps. He went first, followed by Wesley helping Lopez, the EMTs already waiting at the bottom of the stairs to usher them to the waiting ambulance, and Harper and Nolan taking up the rear.
“You okay?” He asked as he walked up level to Lucy on the tarmac. He had no luggage or anything to carry, so he moved his hands towards the front pockets of his cargo pants.
She let out a watery chuckle, making a jerky movement before closing the distance and pulling him into an abrupt hug. “I should be asking you guys that.” She mumbled into the fabric on his chest.
Tim was a bit slow to move his arms around Lucy, but returned her hug. “Heard you caught him.” He said quietly, brushing his hands over her shoulder blades.
“Heard you dodged some bullets.”
Tim chuckled, letting Lucy pull away from him, and walking towards the ambulance where Grey was speaking with the rest of their group, getting a more in depth picture of what their time in Guatemala entailed. “Lopez was a little less lucky.”
“What!” Lucy exhaled forcefully.
“Relax, shh. She’s fine. Just grazed her. Dead centered La Fiera even with rotor winds though. Thank god she recertifies with the detectives now.”
Lucy scoffed and moved further in front of Tim to get closer to Angela. “Angela, I’m so happy you’re okay.” She said quietly, tentatively opening her arms for a hug she wasn’t sure would be welcome.
“Chen, get over here.” Lucy needed no further prompting and wrapped her arms gently around Lopez, careful of the IV line the EMTs had already inserted in preparation to bring her to Shaw. “I’m sorry.” She said. She didn’t need to vocalize to Lucy what she was sorry for. She was sorry for the loss of Jackson. Her kidnapping and rescue being a hindrance to any grieving she needed to do.
“I’m sorry, too.” Lucy pulled away, tears openly streaming down her cheeks, but managed a watery smile. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Lucy pulled back from the group, choosing to come back to standing at his side, so close. Her arm gently brushed against his, and while he was aware how filthy he was, and she obviously was aware of this too, so he didn’t pull his arm away. He could use the smallest of comforts right now.
“Alright, alright. Lopez, you get to the hospital and get that baby checked out. You are all at the end of shift for the next six days. Officer West…. His service is Thursday morning. I’ll see you all there.” Grey crossed his arms, looking to Tim and Lucy, then to Harper and Nolan. “Nolan, Harper, I’ll drive you back to the station to pick up your cars. Chen, you alright to get Bradford home?”
“Yes, sir.” Lucy stepped away from Tim, digging in her pants pocket for the key ring to Tim’s truck.
They waved their goodbyes, watching the ambulance take off with the transport lights flashing. Non-emergency. That’s good. Tim felt the vestiges of anxiety leave him as the ambulance drove out of sight.
Dusk was on the horizon and although Tim had spent the last however many hours lightly napping in various levels of comfort, he could already feel the fatigue creeping up on him, the need for a good night's rest in a warm bed.
Tim almost made to grab the keys from Lucy as they approached his truck but couldn’t bring himself to want to drive and so he let himself into the passenger seat and watched Lucy with a small grin as she hoisted herself into the driver’s seat. “You change all my settings, Chen?”
She shot him a petulant look as she pulled the seatbelt across her lap, her hand then turning the engine over. “I can’t help it if I have short legs.”
“Short everything.” He scoffed, resting the back of his head against the window, preferring at this moment to focus on her rather than the road. “You okay?” He asked again.
“Are you?” She countered.
Tim sat in the silence for a moment, streetlights flashing through the windshield and illuminating them both as Lucy drove. “Glad to be home.” He offered. “Still trying to process everything. It’s been days but it’s all blurred together.”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I haven’t really… I was so worried about you— all of you.” She finished quickly. “Um… Kojo is at my apartment.”
“Oh,” he breathed. “I thought you’d… I thought you’d stay at my house.” He frowned, knowing that Jackson’s absence would fester like an untreated wound.
She smiled a bit tightly, “We slept in Jackson’s bed. I—I knew I’d feel alone anywhere without you. Without him. I wanted to feel close to him. Kojo helped.”
“I’m sorry you felt alone, Lucy.”
“No—no. Angela and the baby were more important, Tim. It was okay. I’m okay…” She bit her lip, “‘okay’ is over selling it.”
Tim reached across the center console and touched his hand to her elbow, giving her a light squeeze. He didn’t offer any other words, just watched her and the scenery in front of them through the glow of headlights, store fronts and traffic lights.
“Are you hungry?” She asked him after a few minutes of silence.
His stomach gave an unpleasant turn of hunger at the mention of food, “Honestly? Starving. You have something in mind?”
“I have a lasagna keeping warm in the oven. I thought comfort food would —- that carbs would be the best after …. Well, everything.”
“Sounds perfect.”
The rest of the drive to Lucy’s apartment passed in amiable silence. Tim needed to regain his bearings and compartmentalize the soldier he’d needed to be back into recess of his skill set. The precipice of the edge he’d been on since he pulled Lucy and the Salonga brother over finally was receding now that he wasn’t teetering into free fall. He thought that the only moments of reprieve from panic and unease was seeing her in her green dress, her lips a shade of red he’d never seen on her before, countered with a more familiar bare-faced Lucy wearing his too big tshirt and sweatpants, curled into him, asleep in his bed.
Which was….. not as big of a revelation as he anticipated it being once he’d allowed himself to think it. He was a man of principles (and contradictions) but he was still just a man. He had eyes.
The walk through her building's lobby and subsequent elevator ride also remained silent. He’d only been to her apartment a handful of times before but the trip around the corner and down the hallway was familiar. She unlocked the door and he followed her inside, his eyes quickly focusing on the door to Jackson’s room, closed. Probably a jolt of grief for Lucy if every time she came home she was confronted by his absence.
“I—I’m going to turn the oven up to make sure dinner is warm enough. I… I grabbed some of your stuff when I was at your house grabbing more of Kojo’s food.” And speak his name and he shall arrive.
Kojo greeted Tim more enthusiastically than usual, supposing it was due to the fact it had been a few days since he’d seen him. No passing ships in the night to ease the separation of time. “Hey, buddy. I missed you.” He crouched down, rubbing his hands over Kojo’s face, scratching his ears and under his jaw.
“You can grab a shower and change and dinner will be ready when you’re done.” She gestured to the bathroom, a Jack and Jill style that connected to her bedroom and the kitchen.
“Thanks,” he walked towards the door, stopping to pick up his go bag from the floor in the bathroom to place it up on the counter. He shut the bathroom off to the kitchen, the door to her bedroom already shut.
He felt a flutter of something in his chest as he looked through what Lucy had thought to bring for him. Tried not to picture her rifling through his dressers too hard, her hands moving over his pants, shirts, boxers…. His toothbrush had the travel cap on it but she hadn’t brought his toothpaste, which was fine. He wasn’t picky. The lack of his own hygiene items was a bit… Well, soap is soap. What does it matter what the fragrance is? Lucy always smells nice. This was fine.
He stripped, dropping his filthy tshirt and pants to a pile at his feet. He hesitated removing his boxers, feeling a twinge of… something he couldn’t identify (something he wasn’t willing to identify?) in the center of his chest. Shaking himself of the unidentified feeling, his boxers joined the pile, followed by his socks.
Lucy’s shower was pretty decent (upscale for a gang member she had said once), enclosed with a white curtain with a wavy dotted pattern and turquoise subway tile up the walls. There was a small shelf built into the shower wall that contained miscellaneous products, as well as a bench seat that had more products to choose from pushed to the side. He reached for a bottle, and glanced over it, before setting it back down. He wasn’t going to trigger Lucy further by coming out of the shower smelling like her dead roommate.
The spray and heat of the water felt like being reborn. He watched the dirt and blood that covered his arms streak down to his hands and drop off into the drain. He scrubbed his body with a washcloth Lucy had thoughtfully left on top of the counter, the smell of shea butter drifting in the humidity of the shower through his olfactory sense. It was pleasant, a clean scent that was soothing over his skin. He chose at random bottles from the shower shelf, searching until he came across one that told him it was shampoo. He gave it a tentative sniff, confirming the scent to smell like Lucy, and had at it.
Lucy wasn’t in the apartment when he left her bathroom, dressed in grey pajama pants and a lightweight blue hoodie. The tiles in the common area were cold on his bare feet and he quickly stepped onto the kitchen mat in front of the island. He grabbed the oven mit off the counter and retrieved the lasagna from the oven and placing it on a trivet Lucy had already thoughtfully put out. He busied himself with opening her cabinets (not that there was many to choose from) and grabbing plates. Finding a serving spatula took a bit more effort (why have a utensil crock if you’re not going to store serving ware?)
The apartment door opened, and Kojo led Lucy back in, giving himself a bit of a shake as she unclipped his leash. “Hey, he should be all set for the night.” She told him, kicking her shoes off by the bench beside the door.
“Thanks,” he said, placing dinner on the plates and sliding them across the counter.
Lucy grabbed forks from one of the drawers, and two glasses from the cabinet and filling them both with tap water. “Do you want something else to drink?” She asked, “I have beer, tequila…. Maybe iced tea?”
“Water is great,” he took a fork from her and led the way to the kitchen stools. Lucy’s seat was clearly in the middle, and he chose the left. Had it been Jackson’s? “Thank you.” He gestured to dinner, “And for everything else.”
She smiled at him, the usual light behind her eyes lacking, but still genuine. She looked as exhausted and as drained as he did. He was sure that she’d probably had as much sleep as he had over the same amount of days. And while he had had adrenaline and a mission to accomplish to keep him up and moving, she’d had less to occupy her mind with other than worry for his (their) safety in Guatemala, mourning Jackson, apprehending Jackson’s killer… the past week had not been kind to either of them (any of them).
When they’d finished their meal, Tim took it upon himself to wash the dishes they’d used and found aluminum foil to cover the lasagna dish and placed it in the refrigerator. Lucy watched him move through her kitchen with sad eyes, a fresh set of silent tears creeping out. Tim hesitated for a moment before walking to her side, pulling her against him in a half hug.
“We’re gonna be okay, Lucy.” He said softly, bringing his free arm around her as she shifted towards him, pulling her flush against his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head and tried to soothe her with light strokes over the back of her head, shoulders and back.
Tim could feel the fabric of his hoodie becoming a bit damp from her tears, could feel her shoulders shaking with soundless cries. He wasn’t immune to his own emotions and feelings and allowed his eyes to fill with tears. In this moment, with everyone as safe as they could be, everything that had happened could finally catch up. Lucy felt safe enough to break down now that they had retrieved Angela and that there was to be some vindication for Jackson’s senseless death.
Tim slowly pulled himself away, bent at the knees to bring himself eye level with her. She didn’t meet his gaze and so he brought his hand to her cheek, “Hey…” he said softly, using his thumb to brush away a few tears, “it’s okay to not be okay.”
Her eyes flew to his, her lips trembling with the force to stop more tears from springing loose. “I’m not okay.”
“And that’s okay.” He pressed his mouth to the top of her forehead, placing a gentle kiss of reassurance. They were friends and she needed softness in this moment and he could provide it for her. His best friend lived, her best friend didn’t. “C’mon.” He guided her off the kitchen stool and walked her towards her bedroom.
He pulled back the blankets on the side of the bed with the most clutter on the nightstand, and guided her into it. It was only 9:30 at night, but sleep could be the only thing to be had.
“G’night. I’ll see you in the morning.” He said quietly, pulling the blankets over her, short of tucking her in. He headed back to the doorway, reaching for the handle to shut the door behind him. He wondered if Kojo would mind if he borrowed one of the mediation cushions he’d claimed as his bed.
“Tim?”
He stopped, halfway out of the doorway, the door behind him. “Yeah?”
“Will you stay?”
He nodded, mostly to himself, knowing he’d do anything she asked for at this point. Backtracking through the door, he closed it behind him and stepped over a few discarded dresses on the floor, options for the wedding she had discarded. He crawled into the empty side of her bed, the fabric of the canopy fluttering with the slight breeze of his path.
He didn’t put up the pretense that he wasn’t going to hold her when she rolled onto her side, facing away from him. He pulled her to him as he placed himself close to the center of the bed and curled himself around her, mildly suffocating on a mouthful of her hair. He left his hand on her rib cage ( that ribcage) and felt the intrusive thought come to his mind as his thumb ran over where she’d been marred.
“I kept it.” She said into the darkness of her room. Always answering his unasked questions, even ones that he had no business asking.
He clenched his hand slightly, half reassurance she was still here, half greed to know that maybe his words had meant something to her. “You’re a survivor.” He whispered into her hair. A promise that this was just another first day of the rest of her life. That she’d make it through this grief too.
The night before Jackson’s funeral found Tim driving himself to his home to retrieve his Class A’s, pristinely pressed and ready in a garment bag. He was reminded of his last time wearing it as he retrieved it from his closet— in conjunction with Jackson when they received a commendation. It made Tim’s stomach roll uncomfortably, a pang of distant grief washing over him.
Jackson West had started off as being the most prepared rookie any FTO could ask for. He had actually anticipated West being assigned to him, and when Captain Andersen had announced assignments to Lopez, Bishop and he at the end of shift the night prior to their start, he’d been surprised to have been passed over for the legacy. Lopez, a few years into being a P3 and getting the legacy was a surprise. Tim had imagined that Commander West would have lobbied for his assignment to Tim, with the longest length of service at Mid-Wilshire out of the active FTOs. Bishop was never in contention to train West, having been newly promoted— and receiving her first rookie. The youngest FTO to the oldest rookie.
Tim would never overstep his rank and ask for the Captain to explain herself to him. He didn’t believe in favoritism (how that would soon change), and didn’t expect to receive favoritism from superior officers, even with his unblemished (could he still say that after Isabel?) record. He would take the female rookie and train her, build her into an officer that he could be proud of. He had his assignment, and while still a little perplexed, he would fulfill his duty.
“Dismissed,” Andersen had said, gesturing the three FTOs to the door. “Officer Bradford, a word before you go.”
Tim stopped in the doorway and watched Bishop and Lopez look over their shoulders with questioning looks. He was just as perplexed as they were at his hold back. Tim turned around and faced the Captain. “Ma’am?”
“Shut the door, Officer. Have a seat.” She gestured to the pair of chairs in front of her desk and Tim did as instructed. “I can assume that once the list of recruits we were receiving from the Academy arrived, that you believed you’d be assigned Officer West?”
Tim wanted to petulantly cross his arms over his chest in a silent admission but forced himself to continue sitting at attention. “Yes, ma’am.” He had a high standard for his rookies and that was a reputation he had throughout the different divisions of the LAPD. Not being assigned the legacy felt like a black mark on his record, one he wondered if he had because of the Internal Affairs investigation into his wife before her firing. West’s father was Commander of IA. Did he find Tim untrustworthy and no longer a viable option to be trusted with his son?
“Commander West had asked that much. Sergeant Grey agreed.” She paused, evaluating him for a reaction. “But I didn’t.” Tim felt his throat get tight, conflicting emotions over Commander West requesting him to train his son and his own Captain believing he wasn’t up to the job. “I like to know the officers in my command, Officer Bradford. You have been on the force for a decade, before that you were a Sergeant in the Army, touring in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Honorably discharged.”
Tim nodded his head, “Yes, ma’am.” Those were the only words he knew at that moment.
“You enrolled in the Academy two weeks after your return. You received scores within the top 5 over all courses, overall an exemplary example of what the LAPD should be,” she crossed her hands under her chin and rested her head on them, regarding him with an almost dispassionate gaze. “But you’ve stumbled in the last year.”
Tim swallowed roughly, the claws of panic scratching up his throat. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, willing himself to not react outwardly. The shame of his handling of Isabel’s addiction stinging behind his eyes, the internal disquiet of her disappearance from their home and life hadn’t stayed internal for long. He was aware he’d become harsher, crueler, quicker to anger over the last few months. And it had been noticed outside of his fellow officers. His last rookie had washed out a few days after the six month exam, a mistake that the Tim of two years ago would have helped adjust and fix had been Rookie Officer Walden’s final blue page.
Andersen took Tim’s silence, whether as an admission of guilt, or a silent protest of disagreement, he wasn’t sure, and let the words hang over the office before she continued. “Officer Chen dropped out of graduate school.” Tim felt like he had whiplash from the abrupt change in conversation. “She has a degree in psychology. She applied to the Academy in defiance of her parents,” she continued. “She excelled at the Academy, earning marks that are comparable to your own.” Captain Andersen reached for a file to her left. “She has the promise of being a great asset to the LAPD.” She thumbed through a few pages in the file, “And it is my belief that your training of her will get her there.”
Tim felt the air leave his lungs in a quick breath. “Ma’am.” He said, a gesture of thanks and willing her to continue.
“Every officer stumbles, Officer Bradford, we are not infallible. It's how we move forward in these moments that have the power to define us.” She shut the file, and Tim was able to read the tab: ‘Chen, Lucy Gho’. “Officer West has had his whole life to prepare for this path. This career was predestined for him. Officer Lopez had to fight her way to this career path. Her drive and fight will offset the complacency of Officer West who believes it is his birthright to join his family in blues. He has to learn how to be an officer on his own merit and prove he deserves to be here.
Officer Chen may have come to us based on a whim but her education in psychology and natural empathy will be defining talents for her as an officer. She has the sense of service but lacks in how to utilize it.” She sat back in her chair, bracing her arms against the arms of her chair. “Tell me, Officer Bradford, why did you decide to join the LAPD?”
Tim wasn’t expecting the question. This had so far felt like a conversation in which he wasn’t expected to contribute much to. He let himself wash over the memories of his path to current; a head shaped hole in the drywall. A compass and abandoned in the park to find his way home. A beer bottle thrown at a wall next to him and the broken shards of glass slicing the skin of his arms and remnants of the malt liquid soaking his tshirt. A broken clavicle from being pushed into the kitchen counter after standing up for himself for the first time. Keeping his fathers affair with the neighbor a secret so his mother’s feelings could be spared. His mother dying halfway through his senior year of high school. An Army recruitment table outside of the school doors on a May afternoon.
If his mother hadn’t died, had the recruiters not been there that day, was the Army something he’d have considered seriously? He’d never excelled in school so college hadn’t ever been considered seriously outside of a football scholarship. As graduation approached and his grief festered like an open wound, he’d felt particularly directionless. His father continued to drink himself away and for the most part ignored his sister’s existence and only acknowledged Tim if he had bitter fists. He didn’t feel emotionally attached to anyone, didn’t feel the need to stay on Genny’s behalf. So he had signed his name, had taken the pamphlet and information, attended a recruitment meeting and by the middle of June he was at Fort Sill in Oklahoma going through the first week of boot camp.
He had struggled at first going through basic training. While he was used to existing on lack of sleep due to living on the edge of his father’s monsters, used to general physical rigor from playing sports, he wasn’t used to the way his body and mind ached at the end of each day (the whole day if he was honest with himself) from the exertion. He wasn’t used to sleeping in a long hall with 25 other boys his age, most with similar backgrounds as himself. That many 18 year old boys with chips on their shoulders was a breeding ground for strife.
When Tim had finally adjusted to the rigid timetable the Army had provided, he blossomed. While the work was hard, it was predictable and there was a sense of accomplishment in him at the end of each day. After he had graduated basic training (neither his father or sister attended), he moved forward in his Advanced Individual Training at the Army Armor Center at Fort Moore in Georgia. By the time he’d finished Basic and AIT training, it was almost April of the following year. He had a short break in which he was allowed to travel home, but he had hesitated. It had been 241 days since he had seen his sister or father, and close to 90 since he’d even spoken to Genny.
He didn’t feel compelled to subject himself to a visit back to Los Angeles and chose instead to rent a car and head towards his station for the foreseeable future at Fort Cavazos in Texas, taking his time by stopping in cities and towns as he went. The last eight months had been the most he’d ever seen of the United States (not that he’d consider Oklahoma anything other than OK and Georgia’s humidity anything less than oppressive). Joining the Army had awakened a sense of direction in his life, the physical exertion allowing his brain to process information in a way that had always escaped him in school.
Tim felt like he had finally found a calling for his life, and had felt sure that he was bound by a sense of duty larger than himself. Living on base at a military installation brought stability he had been looking for for the first 18 years of his life. The schedule was set and routine and he enjoyed doing this job, in addition to having minimal costs and expenses. It allowed him to grow savings for the first time in his life. His safety net for when his enlistment came to an end and he moved to IRR. He had been giving thought to attending a vocational school for a career after service.
But about 27 months after first arriving at Basic Training, American soil was under attack for the first time since WWII, and life as Tim and his compatriots knew it was over. No longer was there a set end date for his service. The War on Terror had begun and with that came deployment notices. Friends that Tim had come up with and gotten to know began receiving their letters, some with as much notice as 90 days but it felt like just as many with as little as 30. Tim fell into the second category and before he knew it, it’d been two and a half years since he’d seen his sister (and father), and had no idea if he'd ever get the chance to see her again.
As much as he thought Oklahoma was boring, as humid as Georgia was, and how many scorpions and snakes he’d had to deal with in Texas, it was nothing compared to breathing in the dust of Afghanistan, and the sheer terror the armed forces lived in. Most of the boots on the ground had joined in a time of peace and hadn’t foreseen a global war on the horizon. Being so young and in a war zone left a lasting impression on him in the months and skirmishes that followed. He no longer could envision his life without duty, and in the cloudless night of his 21st birthday in Afghanistan, he’d made the decision to re-enlist, and after his service was completed, he’d go home to Los Angeles and continue to serve and protect.
“A lot of things happened to bring me here, Ma’am.” Tim answered, speaking slowly, clearly. “I joined the Army right after high school. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and that seemed like the right place to start. I was in my second year of enlistment when 9/11 happened. My first deployment was soon after. Being there, protecting civilians— children, fighting against terrorism, it felt like it was a calling I didn’t know I had. I knew I wanted to make it home and continue dedicating myself to serving my fellow citizens.”
Captain Andersen smiled at him. “You lacked a sense of purpose and found your meaning in serving.” She summarized, a slight nod of her head. “And now I need you to guide Officer Chen to hers.”
Tim nodded shortly, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Dismissed.” Tim stood immediately, thanking her for her time and swiftly moved to the office door, opening it as silently as he could. “Officer Bradford?” Tim stopped, rigid in his stance and turned back to his captain. “Thank you for your service.”
Tim gave her a tight smile and a nod, “Ma’am.” And promptly turned on his heel and left her office, clicking the door closed behind him.
It had been a bruise to his ego to have been passed over for training Jackson until Captain Andersen had vocalized why. She didn’t have to explain her reasoning and Tim had no business asking, but it did a lot to take the sting out of it. Andersen was right in stating that she liked to know her officers. She had seen that Lucy would need his training to build her into the best officer she could be. He was also sure that Andersen could sense that Lucy was going to be the soothing balm to his fractured life. How she was able to know that both FTO and Rookie needed the other to move forward while barely having more than a passing conversation with Lucy and a small folder with her details to mull over, Tim would never know.
His grip tightened on the garment bag in his hand as he reached down to grab his dress shoes from the bottom of his closet. He’d like to ask Captain Andersen if she was proud of the officer Lucy had become under his tutelage. Remembered the reprimand he’d been given the night of her Plain Clothes Day.
“I remember having a conversation with you the night before Officer Chen reported to duty. That she was empathetic and had a promising career ahead of her. And now I’m standing here with a formal complaint in my hands that details how she threatened a civilian, to make him her personal project. Is this the type of officer you are, Officer Bradford?”
Tim stood ramrod straight, “No, ma’am.”
“Then explain to me how the most promising rookie we have is on the verge of losing her job because of how she asserted herself today.”
Tim swallowed heavily and tried to steel his nerves. He hadn’t felt the sting of disappointment from a superior officer in a long while. “Officer Chen is a kind and insightful person who sees the inherent good in people.” He took a bracing breath, “So much so that I’ve had to show her the world is a scary place. I knew she would second guess every decision she made today and that it would bring up self doubt which caused her to act uncharacteristically to her nature. But when it really mattered, she didn’t hesitate to put her career on the line and made the right call.”
Andersen nodded her head, continuing to look at him sternly. “Do not make me regret recommending to IA that they close out this complaint due to the circumstances.”
“Understood. Thank you, Ma’am.”
Lucy and Tim had not had a chance to give Captain Andersen an opportunity to regret it before she was murdered. The second to last time he’d worn his Class A’s. Tim wished he’d had more happy memories associated with this uniform than the sad ones.
He laid the garment bag and shoes on the foot of his bed and headed to his bathroom to grab his go bag of toiletries to toss into his backpack along with other items of clothing to bring back to Lucy’s. Neither of them had brought up the topic of them continuing to stay together for the time being, but just had come to an unspoken understanding that comfort was needed on both parts.
The morning of Jackson’s funeral dawned bright and sunny, complimenting the fallen officer’s disposition. The early morning sunlight drifted in through the metal framed window of Lucy’s bedroom and made a kaleidoscope of pattern when it caught on the glass base of the bedside lamp beside Tim’s head. Squinting from the sun illuminating his eyelids, he raised a hand to cover his eyes to relieve some of the brightness he was suffering from.
He gently threw out his right arm, trying to locate the warmth of Lucy’s body next to him but found the sheets empty but still warm. Propping himself up on his elbows and opening his eyes, he was met with the buttery yellow of her wall and a slight glance of himself in her vanity mirror across from him, but no sign of Lucy.
Sliding out of bed and grabbing his phone off the nightstand to check the time (6:37AM), he listened for any sign of movement coming from other rooms in the apartment. He didn’t hear Kojo’s earthshaking snores, or any soft footsteps. He grabbed his hoodie off of the dresser and pulled it on over his sleep shirt.
“Lucy?” He called out, shuffling through the bedroom and out into the common room. He clocked the coffee pot currently brewing, an absence of Kojo’s leash and Lucy’s sneakers.
Being the smart boy he was, he realized that Lucy had brought his (their) dog out for a brief morning walk to stretch his legs. Tim felt a bit bad knowing that Kojo was used to letting himself in and out of Tim’s house to stretch his legs in the backyard as needed and relieve himself, and had spent a good chunk of the last week here in Lucy’s apartment. He’d have to check in with her this afternoon after the ceremony had concluded and see if she’d be willing to go home with him.
He had just finished pouring two cups of coffee into mugs when the jingle of keys sounded and the apartment door pushed open, Kojo’s nose leading the way in.
“G'morning,” he greeted, opening her fridge and pulling out almond milk for her coffee and pouring in the Lucy amount. “You’re up early.”
Lucy smiled slightly at him, moving to take her coffee from his outstretched hand. “I couldn’t sleep anymore. Thanks.” She took a sip from the mug and placed it on the kitchen island.
Tim raised his mug to his mouth and watched her as she refilled Kojo’s water bowl. “Um, I know Kojo usually has salmon and eggs on Thursdays…” she started as she moved around him and opened the fridge for herself. She pulled out a small piece of salmon and the egg holder.
Tim’s chest felt warm and comfortable at the gesture of Lucy providing his (their) dog’s special breakfast food in her home. “You didn’t have to do that, Lucy.”
She gave him a slight shrug, “I know.” She retrieved a pan from a drawer in the island and placed it on the stove.
Tim took five eggs out of the holder and cracked them into a bowl he’d retrieved from the cabinet, whisking with a fork until they were smooth. He would normally prepare a bit more of an involved breakfast for a long day like today, but found that his appetite wasn’t really there. Three eggs for him, two eggs for Kojo. Lucy had already pulled out a mason jar of her overnight oats topped with blueberries from the fridge and took a seat across from him at the island.
It felt oddly domestic. Comfortable, right. But a dark cloud continued to loom over their heads despite the sunny weather.
After breakfast and a shower, Lucy began steaming and ironing her Class A’s and shining her shoes. She was as meticulous as he himself was, having touched up his own uniform while she was in the shower. Tim stood at her bathroom sink shaving off the weeks worth of stubble that had grown in as Lucy worked on pinning and tying her hair into a bun. Tim could see her hands trembling as she missed a few pieces as he watched her through the mirror.
Rinsing the shaving cream off and drying his face and hands on a towel, he gently reached out to touch her wrist to stop her. “Let me,” he said, taking her brush from her hand.
He took a stand behind her, softly brushing out the bumps in her hair from her failed attempt and smoothing with his hand as he went before fastening a ponytail at the nape of her neck. He twisted the plait of hair with his hands and silently took the second hair tie from her hand and wrapped the twist around the original holder, fastening it quickly before it could unravel.
Lucy watched him through the reflection with misty eyes and Tim pretended not to notice an underlying feeling present in her gaze. Neither of them had the mental energy to expend to identify superfluous feelings.
“Thank you.”
He nodded, stepping away from her. “Yeah.”
He backed out of the bathroom and headed into her bedroom to change into his Class A’s now that it was down to the wire in leaving on time. He was finishing buttoning his collar and preparing his tie when she walked into the bedroom to change into hers. Tim turned his back to her and focused on himself in the full length mirror. He could tie a tie in his sleep but needed something to focus on as Lucy dressed in the same room as him. It should have felt awkward or inappropriate but instead it just felt…. Just this side of unfamiliar after spending the last few nights holding each other during their sleep, sharing meals and walks with Kojo.
Movement in the mirror caught his eye and Tim felt his throat uncomfortably tight as he caught Lucy’s bare back in the reflection, fastening her bra. The (pleasant) surprise quickly vanished as his eyes clocked ink on her ribcage. He closed his eyes, squeezing tightly, and fought to shake the memory of pulling her still body from the barrel from his mind. To know she had kept the ink was one thing, but seeing it for the first time since the wound scabbed over was still quite jarring. Survivor.
“Tim?” Survivor. Survived.
“Yeah?” He didn’t open his eyes or turn around to face her even though he heard and felt her move closer to him.
“Can you… will you help me? With my tie? My hands…”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He moved his own knot tighter to his throat and turned away from the mirror.
He stood in front of her and grabbed both ends of the tie already draped around her neck. He wasn’t watching his hands as they moved on muscle memory, even if tying a tie on someone else was a bit foreign. His eyes stayed locked on Lucy’s as she gazed between his and the tie in his hands. He watched her bite the inside of her lip and swallow, the gentle motion noticeable against the collar of her uniform.
“Thank you.”
“For what?” He smiled, straightening the length of tie against her belly as she placed the tie clip in place. “Doing my job?” He smiled briefly, and took a step back. “Ready?”
She gave herself a bracing nod. “No. But let’s go.”