Chapter Text
“Officer down, I repeat, Officer down.”
The world had become a blur. Lights shifted around him, only seeing chunks of color in his peripheral view. His thoughts seemed to swirl in his mind until they were unrecognizable as to what he was even thinking. He started to lean sideways, losing his sense of direction until his shoulder hit a brick wall. And everything seemed normal again.
When he arrived at the hospital she was kept at, Angela shuffled out of the double doors, grabbing him by the elbow to drag him inside. “Tim, are you okay? Do you need to be admitted,” she asked, she was already worried about Lucy. He couldn’t let her do the same to him.
He rubbed at his eyes, retracting his vision back, “no, no I’m fine. Where's Lucy? Is she okay? Is she hurt? Is she–"
“Lucy’s physically okay, but you should see for yourself,” she sighed, bringing him upright by the elbow once again.
The hospital room was dim; lights flickered where the bulbs needed changing. It was quite cold, but hospitals aren’t very known for their air ventilation.
Lucy lay limp in the dull bed, she looked so empty of life, she looked almost as much a corpse. Her skin was pale; her head was wrapped in a protective cloth. And then he seemed to remember a retired moment long ago with Isabel. He remembered after she had gotten shot after going in as a C.I. She seemed to be in the same condition.
There were light scratches on her face, her lips cracked. She looked so small. Tim took a moment to settle in the uncomfortable, springy chair next to her bed. Bringing her hands into his. Her fingers felt like ice. He couldn’t help the tear that escaped his eye. “Lucy,” he asked, choking on a sob.
Angela stood in the doorway. “It’s probably best I tell you her condition before the doctors come in and spring it on you.”
His head turned sharply, eyes red with tears, “what? What condition, Angela?” His voice trembled; a worry overcame his tough ego.
Angela sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder before grasping it like a lifeline. He’d never seen Angela cry before. Not since she was pregnant, (according to her that was an excuse). “Lucy hit her head in the crash. Pretty bad, actually. Tim, she has amnesia. She was awake for a few minutes before you were here. She doesn’t recognize me. She doesn’t know who I am, Tim,” she gasped out, throwing her arms around her friend. The tears fell before he could realize.
“What do you mean ‘she can’t remember you’,” he inquired, his eyes strained to look at her. Her soft, brunette hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. Her nails still painted the butter-yellow polish that she had begged him to pick up for her.
She doesn’t recognize Angela, which means she most likely won’t remember him, either. The thought of that just breaks him. What if she never recovers, what if she never feels love towards him again? What if she wants a divorce? His soul falls at the thought of the love of his life never loving him again.
“Lucy doesn’t know who I am, Tim. Which means she probably won’t know you, either,” she murmured, pushing back a fallen piece of hair behind her ear.
No. No,no,no,no,no. It can’t be real. This all has to be some kind of sick dream or something. He pinches himself on the arm in hopes that he’s right. That it is a dream.
But nothing changes. Lucy still lay flat on the bed beside him, the room still smelt of antiseptics and rubber gloves. This is his life now. This is reality.
_____________
His eyes blinked open quickly when he heard loud shuffling around the room. Doctors rushed in, unplugging certain tubes from her IV, leaning her backwards as they started to wheel her out of the room. It took Tim a while to realize what was happening. Lucy was coding.
“Wait, wait, what’s going on with her? What are you doing,” he stood, walking with them beside Lucy’s hospital bed—determined to get answers.
One of the doctors which held the head space of the bed turned her head to answer him, “Mr. Bradford, Lucy seems to be coding, we need to get her into treatment stat. I need you to back up, we’ll call you out when we can.”
He pushed out a harsh breath, dragging his hand along his face as he stumbled back onto the wall. His breathing became rapid, vision going in and out. He’s having a panic attack.
A firm hand pressed against his shoulder, head turning he could make out Angela leaning over him.
"Hey, Tim, it’s going to be okay, I promise you. Lucy’s a fighter,” she crouched down to his level, bringing his hand to her heart, “just focus on my breathing, you feel that? I need you to follow that pattern, okay? One, two, three—in, one, two, three—out.”
She waits there until his breathing starts to slow, evening out enough to guide him over to the chairs in the lobby. She stays with him until a nurse, dressed in black scrubs with little strawberries on them approaches with a clipboard pinned to her side, “Family of Lucy Chen–Bradford?”
Tim never stood up so fast in his life, fast enough to make his head dizzy. Angela followed closely behind him, mostly as a support system—however she wanted to hear the news on her friend as well.
Lucy had so many who loved her, so many who would fight their lives for her, but she didn’t know it, “Mrs. Bradford is stable, her amnesia still hasn’t moved. It might benefit for you and for her to go talk to her. She’s scared; she doesn’t know what’s going on. It’s better she hears it from you even though she can’t remember you at the moment.”
Tim nodded dumbly, “what room is she in?”
The nurse shared a tired smile with him, looking down at her clipboard to confirm, “room 268.”
The room had a different layout; however, it still smelt of the same hospital fumes as before. Lucy looked the same that he saw her hours ago, dull—almost lifeless.
He covered her chilled hand with his, swiping his fingers against the un-moisturized skin. He whispered soft promises against the shell of her ear. A few ‘I love you’s, he’d assured her that she would be okay. Assuming that she could hear every word that he spoke even though she couldn’t respond back.
The beep of the machine next to her kept him grounded, letting him know she wasn’t going anywhere. She’s still breathing. He had heard from the doctors that she should be waking up in the next few minutes, the medicine they dosed her would wear off. But for now, he just watched, he admired how beautiful she looked even when she was fighting for her life.
He woke from a scream, sounding from the room. His head jumped from where it laid on his and Lucys joined hands, Lucy was sitting upright, a frightened expression on her face, "who are you," she asked in a low whisper, "where am I?"
She reached behind her, finger threatening to press the button for a nurse, "Lucy, wait! Stop, just let me explain to you what happened."
"So, I have amnesia," she confirms, staring into her lap. He firmly grips her hand, how has their life come to this? Weeks ago, they had decided they were ready to start a family, now she has no idea who he is or that she's a sergeant now.
"What's the last thing that you can remember, Lucy?"
Her eyes peeled away from her hands, "I just finished the academy, tomorrow was actually when I was supposed to start as a rookie at Mid-Wilshire," she remembers a few people from her life, Jackson, John, they were like the three musketeers, "where's John?"
Tim's eyebrows furrowed at the question, "what do you mean 'where's John?'," he asked with a mix of curiosity.
"He's my boyfriend, where is he? I want to see him," she pleaded.
Tim's face had shown a shadow of rage, but at most disappointment, "You dated John?"
Lucys eyes shimmered with tears threatening to spill, "wait, dated? We aren't dating anymore?"
Tims face shifted into a disappointed stare, his eyes held visions he could not explain, his heart carried conversations that would be too much for her right now. She has absolutely no idea who he is, she doesn't even remember him as a T.O, how could she ever be ready for someone to break to her that she has a husband and it isn't John, "Lucy, it's been six years since you became a cop, an exceptional one at that. John is still your friend, and I'd like to think of myself as your friend too in ways."
Lucy seemed to close up, the news of it all, of her life, and she couldn't remember a single thing about who she is now, "what's your name at least? I'm sorry that I can't remember you."
He shook his head, "no, Lucy, don't be sorry. Theres nothing to be sorry about. My names Tim."
"Do we work together or something? Where did we meet," Lucy rambled, she wasn't really focused on that, she was so disappointed in herself for being so reckless to cause this.
Tim shifted into a light smile, she was showing interest in their relationship together, obviously it wasn't the time to discuss them being married, that might be a bit of a stretch, but he could handle the start of their story. How they went from T.O and boot to friends. (Which he denied for a long time.)
"Yeah, we met at work. I was actually your Training Officer for your rookie year, and I wouldn't have admitted it then, but you impressed me, Chen," the hard stare she gave him made him clear his throat, "Impress me, Lucy."
Her demeanor shifted; the air thick with unspoken questions, Lucy wasn’t taking it well. He remembered her light, bubbly self this morning when she passed him a coffee in one of her pottery mugs which had been adorned with pink and lilac flowers and tiny bees pollinating them.
He missed that Lucy, he would always and forever cherish that Lucy, and would hope to get her back as soon as he could possibly help her.
“So, Tim, I’d really like to know about the important parts of my life now that I had forgotten, so that maybe as many times you remind me of it, I’ll remember?”
He hid the slight curve to the side of his lips so that Lucy wouldn’t see. He was proud, happy that she wanted to remember. He knew that it would be a mistake telling her about their marriage so soon. But he’d be wrong to make that decision for her.