Chapter Text
“Thanks again for lending me your office space, Sarge,” Angela said, breezing in and dropping a box of her files on the floor by Grey’s desk. He had been posted at the door, holding it open while Angela made trip after trip to her desk to retrieve files (and repeatedly forgot ones that she needed—she was oddly spacy that morning).
“We sure that’s all this time?” he teased, looking around at the scattered folders and boxes she’d brought in.
Angela stood up, hands on her hips, and surveyed the office. Nodding firmly, she stated, “That’s all this time. Definitely.”
“Alright,” he accepted. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Angela gave him a small wave. Once he was gone, she rolled his chair over and sat in it rather dramatically, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “Where the hell am I going to start?” she wondered aloud, eyeing all the files she’d lugged into the office.
She leaned back in the chair, staring more through the papers in front of her than at them as her mind ran blank.
Finally, she shot herself upright, grabbing the edge of the desk and rolling herself in. Though most documents were still packed up in their envelopes and their boxes, she’d made sure to place one very specific paper flat on the desktop completely uncovered so it would always be in her view.
The list from Laura.
Angela knew it likely wasn’t comprehensive—this was still more their case than the feds’; they had most of the information. But it gave her somewhere concrete to establish her footing, and, hopefully, she could take off running from there without hitting any road blocks. Not that her cases ever seemed to trend that way, but a girl could dream.
Just then, the office door opened, and Angela startled back, crumpling the list in her hand and tucking it between her thighs. With a strained sort of smile, she looked up to the door, preparing to give some half-assed excuse for why she had displaced Grey from his own office. When she settled enough to actually process who she was looking at, she let out a sigh of relief, getting the list back out on the desktop and propping her elbow on the desk and her head on her hand. “Bradford,” she greeted somewhat flatly. “I’m busy.”
“You don’t look like Grey,” he replied, furrowing his brow and looking around the office at her boxes.
“I said I’m busy.”
“I can see that,” he said, coming further into the office and standing in front of the desk to look over her.
Angela slowly drew her gaze up. “Did you need something?”
“Figured you might want some help,” he told her, pulling up two chairs and taking a seat in one of them.
Angela eyed the empty one. “Who the hell—”
“Why are we in Grey’s office?” Aaron’s voice asked from the hallway. He stopped at the threshold of the door. “I thought we were going to find Lopez.”
His eyes first caught Tim and then landed on Angela, who gave him a curt wave and an even less committal smile than she’d given Tim.
“Oh,” Aaron said lightly. “Found her.”
“Guys,” Angela huffed, sitting up straight in her chair as Aaron crossed the room to sit next to Tim. “As fun as this is, it’s not the time.”
“Look,” Tim said. “Grey took us off patrol to lend you a hand. Whatever you need, we’re on it. If you don’t want the help, then—”
“I want help,” Angela assured with a rather humorless laugh. “I just also want to focus. This whole thing is out of hand now.” She held up the list to show it to the men across from her. “I mean, everyone on this is one of us. I’ve never had a case like this. It sucks. Who the hell am I supposed to trust anymore?”
“You can trust us,” Aaron replied, a little too jovial.
“Oh?” Angela teased. “Because you’re on here too, Thorsen.”
“Damn,” he breathed, outstretching his wrists to her and hanging his head, shaking it dramatically. “You got me, Lopez.”
Angela took a pencil out of the cup on Grey’s desk and threw it at him.
ΔΔΔ
Lucy had been wandering around trying to find Grey for… a good while. A ridiculous amount of time, frankly. She was starting to think he might have been playing a prank on her—or she would have been if she didn’t know better than that.
It didn’t even faze her that, when she walked by Angela’s desk on her way to check his office for the sixth time, she’d breezed right by him. Thus, his booming voice coming from behind her all but startled her out of her skin. “Officer Chen.”
“Jeez,” Lucy hissed, putting her hand on her heart and staring straight ahead, blinking rapidly and catching her breath for a few seconds before letting out one final quick exhale and sharply pivoting on her heels to look at him. “A little heads up next time?”
“In my defense,” he prefaced. “I asked to see you before my office was commandeered. I didn’t expect to meet out here either.”
“Oh?” Lucy asked, her heart still beating a little too heavily. She peered over her shoulder as if she would be able to get a view into his office from Angela’s desk. Which, of course, she couldn’t, prompting her to shake her head slightly at herself as she looked back to Grey. “Since when was your office up for Trading Spaces?”
Grey arched a brow.
“Forget it,” Lucy said. “Just—why are you at Lopez’s desk? Where’s she?”
“My office. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Grey, who’d been perched on the edge of Angela’s desktop with his hands folded neatly in his lap, pushed himself to his feet and positioned himself in front of Lucy. “Look, the shakeup is temporary, and the details aren’t that important. There was something else I needed to talk to you about that I think you’ll care a bit more about.”
Lucy furrowed her brow. “Sir?”
“The Sergeant’s Exam.”
“What about it?”
“I told you I was working on getting you that promotion to P3.”
A second of silence passed as the implication finally came to her. “It’s through? Already? But I didn’t hear anything—”
“You haven’t. I have.”
Lucy tilted her head, perplexed.
“Perks of the job. I get told in advance.”
Lucy chuckled to herself. Nodding, she asked, “So… how’d it go?”
He simply shrugged, and Lucy once again felt that suspicion that he was trying to play a joke on her. And it was growing progressively less funny.
“Sarge?”
“I can’t tell you specifics yet; the Department’s still ironing things out, and I do gotta leave some of the surprise, right?” he teased, causing Lucy to heave a disappointed sigh. “But… I think a congratulations are in order. And I think you should keep your eyes peeled, because all it takes to change those stripes of yours now is a good score on a straightforward test—which you’ll ace—and a few shuffles of paperwork.”
Lucy’s lips curled into a smile. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Oh, and Nolan wanted to talk to you.”
“He did? Why?”
Grey shrugged.
“Can’t ever just be good news around here, can it? Has to be good news and some nonsense. Or just flat-out bad news. What’s that about?”
“I think he and Juárez are probably still wandering around the bullpen. They’ve been looking for you. Came by here a few times already.”
“Thanks.”
ΔΔΔ
“Oh! Chen—hey!” Nolan called, noticing Lucy from across the bullpen. She apparently didn’t hear him. “Chen!” he repeated. Lucy still kept walking, completely oblivious.
“Lucy,” Celina, stood right beside Nolan, yelled. Finally, they got her attention. She whipped around, her ponytail flying out behind her and settling itself on her shoulder.
“Nolan? Juárez?” she said, letting them come to her. “Did you need something?”
“Not ‘need’ necessarily,” Celina replied.
Nolan cut in almost before Celina could finish her thought. “Grey asked Thorsen to work this high school job fair today, and we figured we’d invite you along.”
Lucy arched a brow. “Thorsen?”
“Yeah. You know the one. Filthy rich. Likes to hear himself talk. Usually following Tim around.”
“I know who you’re talking about,” Lucy sighed. “I don’t see him here.”
“That would be because Juárez told him we’d cover it for him,” Nolan explained, giving Celina a pointed look. She responded with a bashful expression and a little shrug of her shoulders.
“Ah,” Lucy responded, nodding as the pieces fell into place in her mind. “And so you decided you’d try to drag me into it.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
Lucy huffed through her nose, moving her hands to her hips. She was initially going to turn them down, but… did she really have anything better to do? It didn’t seem like it. She was waiting around in promotion limbo at that point; doing her usual patrolling knowing how close she now was to moving up the ladder sounded worse than whatever a high school job fair could throw at her. So she threw her hands up and said, “What the hell? Sure.”
Celina responded with an excited little clap while Nolan promptly pulled out his phone to text an address over to Lucy. “Great. We’ll meet you over there,” he said. “Unless you want to sit in the back of the—“
“Or,” Lucy cut in. “Celina could drive, I could sit up front, and you could sit in the back.”
“She’s my rookie.”
“And she was my rookie when you were in the hospital. Shared custody.”
Celina had been looking expectantly between them, waiting to see who’d win out. Eventually, however, she decided to choose for them. Physically stepping forward to place herself between them, she said, “How about one of you drive, and I’ll just take the back?”
“Better idea,” Lucy said, digging in her uniform pockets until she finally found a coin. She looked pointedly up to Nolan. “Heads or tails?”
He sighed. “Chen—“
“Heads or tails, Nolan.”
“Tails.”
Lucy flipped the coin into the air, deftly catching it and covering it against the back of her other hand. “Moment of truth,” she teased before lifting her hand away to reveal…
“Heads. She wins,” Celina called.
“Ladies up front it is,” Lucy said triumphantly, wrapping her arm over a beaming Celina’s shoulder. Celina quickly returned the gesture, the two of them heading to the shop linked together with Nolan in tow. Once they got there, Lucy opened her door and put one foot inside, stopping just short of climbing in so she could make one last little jest. “Thanks for inviting me!”
ΔΔΔ
Angela had been staring at her list for far too long. She wasn’t really even reading any names or having any thoughts; she was… just staring. Not entirely sure where to begin.
Her eyes eventually landed on her own name. She blinked at it a few times before tossing the list onto the desk and sighing. “Might as well start somewhere,” she said to herself, trying to imbue her words with a laugh but falling a bit short. Leaning back in the chair and looking at the ceiling, she asked herself, “So, Mrs. Lopez. When was the last time you spoke with Mr. Hadley?”
She furrowed her brow, her own facetious question to herself giving her some pause. When was the last time she spoke with him? At his arrest? Arraignment? When had that all happened? Months ago? It felt like hours. But also years.
Angela cleared her throat, standing up this time and leering down over the list on her desk. Grabbing one of Grey’s pens from a cup by his computer, she crossed out her name. And, oddly enough, it did make her feel at least somewhat productive. One more name crossed off than she had a couple minutes ago, right? That wasn’t nothing.
She sighed. “Let’s take it from the top,” she suggested to herself, pulling the chair back in and sitting down with a huff.
Herself. John Nolan. Ryan Caradine. Devonne Hansel. Nyla Harper. Wade Grey. Malcolm Hightower. Celina Juárez. Rick Carroway. Daniel Waco. Tim Bradford. Aaron Thorsen. Lucy Chen. A handful of brass—people who’d be next to impossible to investigate covertly. That was her list. They’d all come up at one point or another during the acolyte investigations, whether that was as a participant or just a random namedrop. And they were all people Angela was familiar with; none of them ever seemed to her like… the type.
She’d gone through and underlined names that were on Laura’s list—that narrowed it down marginally. But it occurred to her that it wasn’t impossible for there to be more than one spanner in the works. Far be it for her, with the way the acolyte cases had been unfolding of late, to confidently cross off any names on an assumption like that. Plus… she felt like any one of them could have potentially gotten access to the Wit Sec information with the right excuse. Being a criminal with law enforcement credentials had to have some perks, right?
She shook her head, staring at the list and finding herself somewhat unwilling to get started on it. But, seeing as she was a professional, she eventually snapped herself out of it, sitting up taller and wielding Grey’s pen. “Nolan,” she said pointedly. “You’re up.”
ΔΔΔ
“This one looks pretty promising,” Bailey said, standing on the sidewalk with Nyla and James outside St. Vincent’s. She was eyeing it over as if she were a realtor.
Nyla’s hands moved instinctively to her hips, and James, watching this happen, knew exactly what was coming—some sort of snide remark. That was her Snide Remark Stance. So, as Nyla turned to address Bailey, James simply watched them both with an amused look on his face. “You’ve said that about every hospital so far,” Nyla said. “And not one has actually been promising. Are you just under the impression that any hospital is promising?”
Bailey shrugged. “We just need a hospital, right?” she asked. “I didn’t realize we were in a position to be choosy.”
“Well, we’re not, but we have to be,” Nyla replied. “I get your point; I’m not very optimistic about how many of these places are going to be willing to work with us. But whichever one we choose still has to… be able to accommodate.”
Bailey nodded, her expression falling to something less hopeful and more prayerful. “I get that,” she said. “But I really do think this one is promising. Call me naïve.”
“It could work,” James interjected, a little unsure but trying to make his words come out as confidently as possible. “Really, it just needs enough outdoor space.” He gestured to the parking lot towards their left which appeared to be adjacent to a garden of sorts. People were walking together, some with IV poles or wheelchairs or even nurses in tow. From their vantage point, it appeared to wrap around behind the hospital. “Willing to bet this one could spare a few feet. It’s just a matter of… convincing them to do that.”
“That’s the hard part,” Nyla sighed. “But I do see what you mean. Maybe they’ll be willing to section off some of the space nearer to the street? Not that people are going Mad Max in a parking lot, but… it could still be dangerous for a patient to get too close to a moving vehicle, right? And it’d let our users get in and out pretty quickly. Fewer faces to walk by.” She turned to Bailey, her stance softer, and gave her an approving nod. “Maybe you’re right, Nune. This place does look promising. From out here, anyway.”
The trio had hit town that day scouting potential places to set up their first Project POND safe injection site. They’d been at two other hospitals so far—both busts. And it wasn’t that they were expecting the endeavor to go easily, but… they had all secretly been hoping it could. After all, they were ultimately trying to help vulnerable community members. Who on earth, and especially who in healthcare, couldn’t get behind that?
A lot of people, as it turned out.
The first hospital they tried was a dead end on a purely logistical basis; it was a small, community-based care center, and it simply didn’t have the space to dedicate to an initiative like that whether they supported the project or not. But the second was larger, better funded. They likely could have accommodated. Nyla, James, and Bailey had gotten all the way to a hospital administrator and then had been turned down the instant the words “safe injection” were off their lips (and, even before that phrase was dropped, they could all see the administrator’s eyes glazing over as soon as they mentioned community outreach). When combined with the fact that it took an inordinate amount of time, and perhaps some off-duty badge flashing from Nyla, to meet with anyone at all… the experience hadn’t put them in the best mood.
As they approached the entrance, Nyla noticed a woman out of the corner of her eye who looked oddly familiar. Stopping in her tracks to get a look, she turned over her shoulder and instantly perked up upon realizing who it was. “Luna!” she called, ditching James and Bailey to take off after her. The two of them had stopped walking once they heard Nyla’s voice, exchanging perplexed glances before watching her run away. “Luna!”
The second call was loud enough to get Luna’s attention, and she smiled fondly when she noticed Nyla waving to her as she neared. “Nyla,” she greeted warmly, hands clasped professionally in front of her. “Something happening I should know about?”
Nyla shook her head. “Nothing crazy,” she assured. “But I was hoping you could do me, Bailey, and James a favor.”
Luna shrugged. “Anything.”
“We’re trying to find a hospital to partner with so we can open our first safe injection site,” Nyla explained. “And we thought—”
“Anything but that,” Luna quickly amended.
Nyla huffed out a breath. Bailey and James had reached them by then, so he cut in before she could respond. “Could you at least let us know who to talk to about it?” he asked.
Luna bit at her lip, apologetic. “I have some names I could give you, but I doubt they’ll be cooperative.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Obviously if it were up to me, I’d grant you the space. But admin’s going to see it as a political statement, and I doubt they’ll be willing to take that risk.”
“We might as well give it a shot,” Bailey replied, trying to mask the defeat in her voice. “I mean, not like we have anything to lose.”
Luna nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Give me until the end of the day.”
“Thanks, Luna!” the trio said in unison.
“Not a problem.”
ΔΔΔ
“They’re just teenagers,” Lucy teased. “They don’t bite.”
“They could,” Nolan replied wryly, surveying the crowd of high schoolers as they made the rounds to various tables. At the moment, the LAPD one manned by Lucy, Nolan, and Celina was vacant save for them. Not that Nolan was complaining.
“It feels really weird,” Celina interjected with a slightly nervous chuckle. “I remember when I was in high school—every other kid wanted to be a cop.”
“Yeah, well… Times are changing,” Lucy said with a shrug. “The police force reputation isn’t what it used to be. For good reason, might I add.”
Celina sighed, but she gave an understanding nod before once again surveying the crowd and hoping one of the students within in would give them the time of day.
Sure enough, a boy approached, visibly anxious. As if knowing immediately who’d be best suited to speak with a scared teenager, Celina and Nolan both backed up a step, leaving Lucy to greet him first. “Good afternoon!” she said brightly, extending a hand for him to shake. He looked at it skeptically for a second but eventually accepted the gesture. “I’m Officer Lucy Chen,” she introduced. “These are Officers Juárez and Nolan. What’s your name?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he got straight to his point. “Would the LAPD hire someone with a criminal record?”
Lucy’s smile fell, but she kept her expression sympathetic. “I doubt it.”
“What if you don’t have a record, but a family member does? Say… like a brother or something. Would they hold that against you?”
“They’re not supposed to,” she replied.
“They probably couldn’t justify keeping you out of the Academy,” Nolan interjected, stepping forward to place himself back in line with Lucy. “But, to be completely honest with you, internal politics are harsh. It’d be a pretty tall hurdle when it comes to promotions.”
The kid nodded, visibly contemplative. “Right. Makes sense.”
“Still worth a shot if it’s what you want to do,” Lucy assured. “Actually, I think that perspective would be valuable.”
“Who said it was about me?” the kid snapped, eyes shifting quickly between the three officers. “I’m just… curious. That’s all.”
“Of course,” Lucy replied. “Ask whatever you’d like.”
He exhaled; it was shaky. “Just one more thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“If you—if someone, you know, hypothetically speaking, had… a physical thing. Say, like—like a prosthetic leg. What then? Could they do it?”
“Technically speaking, LAPD can’t bar somebody for that. As in legally, they’re not allowed. It’d be discrimination. That said, such a person would still need to pass the physical exam like anyone else, but otherwise… I mean, they can’t put it in writing that a disability is disqualifying. If a person can meet the requirements, they can do the job—prosthetic or not,” Lucy answered. As she spoke, she could see the kid start perking up, making her much more confident with this response. It was like witnessing the hope swell up inside of him. “Got anything else you’d like to know? We’d be happy to—”
“Are you Lucy Chen?” a voice cut in. Out of seemingly nowhere, a young girl (who perhaps looked too old to be at a high school, but none of them were about to open that can of worms) had appeared next to, and slightly in front of, the boy who’d been talking with Lucy.
“Yes…?” Lucy affirmed. She gestured to the boy in front of her. “But you’ll have to give me a second because I’m talking to—”
“It’s okay,” he said, already backing away. “You answered all my questions. Thanks.” At that, he vanished into the crowd, leaving just the girl to talk with them.
“Lainey,” she introduced, smiling boldly.
Lucy arched her brow. “How do you know my name?”
“Oh, I’m just a bit of a true crime fanatic,” Lainey replied with a giggle. “Recognized you from some documentaries. You were the officer that one serial killer kidnapped, right? Must have been scary for you.” She eyed Celina and Nolan. “Good thing your team was there, huh?”
Lucy, taken aback, found herself speechless, blinking at Lainey in disbelief. Nolan promptly stepped in. “Enough,” he said firmly. “Are you here to dredge up the past, or are you here to talk about career prospects?”
“I’m just a fan,” Lainey replied. She took a brochure from off the table. “But I’ll look over your materials. Law enforcement might be my calling.”
“If you’re not actually here to talk about joining the LAPD, I’m going to have to ask you to find a different table.”
“Relax, big guy. I’m leaving.” She looked Lucy over one more time. “You know, maybe if I become a cop I too could get myself into some documentaries. Full circle kind of thing.”
“Goodbye, Lainey.”
She laughed to herself before pivoting on her heel and walking away, blonde ponytail bouncing with each step.
ΔΔΔ
Angela was finally through the sub-list of people she considered a waste of time to investigate, and it was only because of her commitment to thoroughness that she’d vetted them at all. Herself, Nolan, Chen, the works—surely they wouldn’t be involved in crimes like that. It was preposterous. The notion alone was unacceptable.
Although, a couple weeks ago she’d have written off the idea that any of her coworkers would wind up being an acolyte. So maybe that was a rash judgment.
Aaron’s voice interrupted her thought process, which normally would have pissed her off, but… at that moment she didn’t have much of a thought process going anyway. No harm, no foul. “How’s it going in here, Lopez?” He was standing at the door, leaning in its frame like this was a social call.
Angela shrugged. “It’s going nowhere,” she replied. Her brow furrowed. “Where’s Bradford? Thought you two came as a matching set these days.”
“He’s wrapping up with a collar. Should be up here in a few minutes.” He nodded towards the files strewn around the floor and across the desk. “Landed on a suspect yet?”
“If only,” she huffed. “You know, usually I don’t have a problem running investigations like this. Turns out it’s a lot harder when every name you pull is one of your own.”
She tossed her pen down on the table, leaning back in Grey’s chair and taking deep breaths to recenter herself as a flash of heat ran through her body. The work was making her physically ill, clearly. In fact, she started to feel—
“Fuck,” she hissed, launching herself out of the chair, unceremoniously shoving Aaron out of her path, and sprinting off down the hall until she came to the restroom. There was barely enough time for her to crash down to the floor beside the toilet bowl and pull her loose strands of hair out of the way before the nausea gave way to, well, something more productive.
Once the wave subsided, Angela found herself panting, slumped back against the closed stall door.
“Goddamn morning sickness,” she muttered, staying place just long enough to start feeling normal again. At last, she got herself back on her feet, heading to wash her hands and splash some water on her face.
When she left, she all but collided with Aaron, who’d followed her and posted himself outside to wait. “Everything okay?” he asked upon seeing her.
She nodded. “All good,” she assured. “For now, anyway. It comes and goes.”
Aaron nodded, trying to come off understanding but falling a bit short.
Angela chuckled, patting his shoulder. “Just don’t get pregnant. Ever,” she instructed playfully. With a wave for him to follow, she said, “Come on. I think I want another set of eyes on this for a little. Or at least someone to bounce theories off of.”
“Sure thing.”
“This whole situation is driving me up the—” Round two. “Hold that thought,” she told Aaron, leaving his side and disappearing back into the bathroom.
Except this time wasn’t round two. This time the pain was elsewhere, lower down. When she returned to the stall, she wasn’t pulling up her hair.
Outside, Aaron was dumbfounded, staring at the vacant space beside him that Angela had left. “Thorsen? The hell are you doing down here? Thought I told you to go talk to Lopez awhile,” Tim said, approaching from up the hall.
“That’s what I was doing,” Aaron replied.
“So… What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Aaron said blankly. “I guess she’s not feeling well? She took off and ran to the bathroom. Came out. Went back in.” His face scrunched. “Told me not to get pregnant.”
“Must just be morning sickness,” Tim breathed, folding his arms. “Genny used to get it so bad with the boys.”
“I didn’t even realize she was expecting.”
“Heard it through the grapevine.”
“Wesley?”
“Chen.”
“Naturally.”
Before Tim could respond, Angela had reemerged, her face rather pale.
“You alright?” Tim asked, coming to put his arm around her to hold her more stable as the three of them walked back towards the office.
Angela stopped them from making a right turn, instead directing them towards the front exit. “One of you needs to take me to the hospital,” she requested. “Now.”
ΔΔΔ
Wesley had ditched work to bolt over to the hospital the second Aaron had called. Sprinting through the DA’s office. Sprinting across the parking lot. Sprinting up to reception at the Emergency Department. Just a lot of sprinting. As a result, he was winded to the point of incoherence when he practically crashed himself on the front desk and asked to see his wife.
“Who?” the woman asked, her eyes searching over Wesley. “Sir, there’s a line. A triage nurse will be out shortly to evaluate you for—”
“Not… not here for me,” he puffed out. His breaths were finally evening out, but he could still feel his heart racing like mad. “I’m here for my wife.”
“Name?”
“Lopez. Angela.”
The woman turned to her computer, typing and clicking away for what felt to Wesley like entirely too long.
“She would have just been brought in like fifteen minutes ago.”
“You see the state of this waiting room? Lots of people were brought in fifteen minutes ago. And the fifteen minutes before that and before that and… Well, you get the idea. It doesn’t look like she has a room yet, so it’s hard to find her in the—oh! There she is. Looks like they just got her in.” The receptionist smiled at Wesley in a way he could only describe as a Customer Service Smile and gestured to the packed seating area behind him. “We’ll call you in when she’s ready for visitors.”
The wait somehow felt like both an eternity and a nanosecond, as if by entering the hospital Wesley had stepped into some bizarre sci-fi time portal. He could only really assume it hadn’t been too terribly long because it looked like the sea of faces around him in the waiting room hadn’t actually changed much by the time a nurse had come out calling for a “Wesley Lopez.” After taking a second to put the pieces together in his brain and realize that meant him, he shot to his feet and scrambled over to follow her, not bothering to get his name corrected.
“Angela,” he breathed, rushing into the room and feeling relief wash over him when he noticed her upright and, generally, normal. He stopped himself just shy of hugging her to ask, “Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Is the baby—”
“Everything’s alright,” she assured. Because he evidently wasn’t going to, Angela initiated the embrace herself, chuckling brightly into his neck before pulling away and making space for him to sit next to her on the hospital bed. “I just overreacted a little.”
“What happened?”
“I think I just wore myself out,” she posited with a shrug. “Apparently running covert investigations on your friends and coworkers is a lot of stress to put your pregnant body through. Who knew?”
“So you’re okay? The baby’s okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. We’re both fine. I… had a bit of spotting back at the station. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman in my family miscarried, and I panicked. Turns out it was nothing to worry about. Just a thing that happens sometimes. Perfectly normal, but they want me to watch out in case it gets any worse so I can come back in.”
Wesley nodded, eyes trailing down to her abdomen. She was just far enough along to start showing. “As long as nothing’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Angela affirmed. “Not with either of us, anyway.” She shifted herself up to sit against the back of the bed. “Work? Different story.”
“The insider thing,” Wesley sighed, nodding. “Made any headway?”
“To tell you the truth, I think I have,” she replied somberly. “But I’m not quite ready to admit it to myself. I mean… once I land on a suspect, it’s going to change my relationship with my own department for good. I’m not quite sure I’m ready to do that yet, so I keep bouncing around the same dead ends. You know, avoiding going down any trails that might get me somewhere.”
“Well, if anyone can get the job done, it’s you,” Wesley said.
Angela’s demeanor changed entirely. “Speaking of which,” she started, sitting up just a bit taller. “I’ll be working from home for a day or two. Tim’s swinging by the station to get my files for me. Just a heads up.”
ΔΔΔ
Tim was struggling to keep his phone lodged between his shoulder and his ear as he consolidated Angela’s files to the best of his ability. Eventually, he gave up the endeavor entirely, opting instead to sigh irritably, look up at the office door to double check that it was closed, switch the call over to speaker phone, and toss the phone on the desktop. “Say that again,” he told Lucy, his mouth just about level with the phone as he crouched down to shove some papers in a box. “I didn’t quite catch it.”
“Just wondering where you were headed tonight,” she repeated. “Your house? Or my apartment?”
“Depends,” he replied. “If I came over, what would we get up to?”
“Studying,” she stated. “And I don’t mean it like fake studying that’s actually just making out with a stack of books on the table. I mean really studying because this test is less than a month out. I gotta cram.”
“Sounds tempting,” he jested.
“I could use the help, honestly.”
“Consider it a date, then,” he said. “But I won’t leaving the station at the usual time. Lopez needs me to bring these files to her house, and I do still need to run back home to let out Bessie and Kojo. Won’t make it to your place until late.”
“Don’t care. Just want you here.”
“You got it.”
The call gave him a burst of motivation; it was like the files packed themselves at that point. Within a couple minutes he was out the door and headed for the parking garage, Angela’s boxes—he’d gotten them down to just four, two of which he’d already taken out to the car—in his arms.
As he neared his car, he noticed a figure at its driver’s door, wedging something down the window in an attempt to pop open the lock. Approaching from the passenger’s side, Tim crouched himself down, hoping the man would be too caught up in his task to notice anyone on the opposite side of the car. Luckily, his prayers were answered, and the man paid Tim no mind, allowing him to carefully set the boxes down beside the car and prepare himself to round the back and start a confrontation. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked, startling the man into dropping his tool and backing away from the car with his hands raised.
Maybe Tim should have known better, but the man just didn’t seem like much of a threat. And so his guard was down a little more than it probably should have been as he got closer with the intent to cuff him. However, the instant Tim was close enough, the man was in action, shoving him into the car.
“Jesus fucking—” Tim barely managed to avoid the man’s fist coming down at him, giving him the opportunity to swing his leg at the man’s calf and drop him to the ground. And… that was all the fight he had in him it seemed because, immediately after, he’d scurried himself to his feet, taken one last look at Tim, and dashed off.
Tim shook his head, making to get himself off the ground. Apparently, he’d landed awkwardly on his shoulder; a pain shot through the joint when he put pressure on it pushing himself up.
“Asshole,” he breathed.
A voice came from the other side of the car as Tim was brushing bits of asphalt off his pants. “Bradford? What’s going on?”
Tim brought his gaze up and found Grey standing in front of him, arms wrapped around the file boxes (he’d picked them up off the pavement) and eyes searching over… everything. Tim, the car, the general path the man had run off on. “Hell if I know,” Tim breathed. He motioned for Grey to hand him the boxes. “I’ll take those.”
“No, you won’t,” Grey responded. “I saw… most of what happened. I think. How’s the shoulder feeling?”
“It’ll be fine. Probably bruised it or something. Not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Grey negated. “These are Lopez’s files?”
Tim nodded.
“So you’re going to the hospital anyway. Perfect.”
“Well, I was actually just going to drop them off at their house, but—”
“I’ll take you.”
“To Angela’s? Or to the—”
“Hospital first.”
“Sarge, that’s really not—”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Fine. Fine.”
Grey started to make for his own car. Realizing Tim was not following, he stopped and turned back, finding him still standing in the same spot and staring off in the direction the man had fled. “You coming?”
“Yes, I’m coming,” Tim replied, still catching his breath a little. He jogged lightly to make up the ground between them. Once caught up, he added, “That guy looked so familiar. I was just trying to place him.”
“Familiar how?”
Tim shrugged, which made him wince. “No idea,” he admitted. “Might just be one of those faces? I just really feel like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
“Any idea what he might have been after?”
“Beats me,” Tim replied. “Could have just… picked the wrong car to steal. Who knows?”
“Seems like an unnecessary risk to try and steal a car from a police station parking garage, don’t you think?”
“Well, if he was looking for something, I have no clue what it was. And, unless it was my insurance papers, he wouldn’t have found it. Not like I keep anything that valuable in there. It’s… just a car.” His eyes fell to the boxes Grey was carrying.
Grey raised a brow. “Tim? Something you want to tell me?”
“Yeah,” he huffed. “There are two more of those.”
Grey frowned. “I’ll get them for you,” he said, trying to preempt any attempt on Tim’s end to fetch them himself. “Where are they? Back in my office?”
Tim shook his head and exhaled. “They’re in my car.”
ΔΔΔ
As Angela, just about ready to discharge from the hospital, shimmied herself into her jeans, Wesley stood faithfully posted at the end of the bed, watching her carefully. Sure she’d said there wasn’t actually anything wrong with her or her pregnancy, but… well, he simply wasn’t going to take chances. If something went wrong, he was going to catch it the moment it happened.
Her phone started violently buzzing on the night stand, just a touch out of her reach. Wesley picked it up for her, reading the caller ID before showing her the screen. “Tim?”
Angela huffed, swiping the phone from Wesley. Before answering, she quipped, “How hard can it be to find some files?” Her tone shifted drastically once she was on the line. “Hey, Tim!” she greeted. “Something up?”
Wesley watched as Angela scrunched her face, confused. He couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but he could tell something was amiss. “Ang?”
“Grey?” she said, surprised to hear his voice instead of Tim’s.
“Grey?” Wesley echoed, arguably more surprised than Angela had been. He took a step closer to try and eavesdrop. It didn’t work very well, but he could hear enough to know it… probably wasn’t good news. As if it ever was in their respective lines of work.
“Oh my God. Is he o—” Angela cut herself off. After some silence that Wesley presumed was filled by Grey talking to her, she said, “I’m—yeah, I was cleared for discharge a few minutes ago. Just… packing my things to head out. How long do you think you’ll be?”
Wesley furrowed his brow, still unsure just what exactly was happening. But Angela seemed relatively calm, so he figured that counted for something. It might have been in her job description to be cool under pressure, but he knew her well enough to suspect she’d have been more worked up if things were serious. All that training sort of went out the window where her friends and family were concerned, even if she pretended otherwise.
“Alright, then. See you soon,” she said, hanging up the phone and tossing it beside herself on the bed. With a long sigh, she laid back on the mattress, hand to her forehead. “Tim’s not bringing the files to the house,” she informed. “He’s bringing them here.”
“Why?”
“Because Grey is bringing Tim here.”
“… Why?”
“He said he’ll tell me when he gets here,” Angela scoffed. She pushed herself back up into a seated position. “But he also said everything’s fine and not to worry about it. Not really sure how he expects me to do that under the circumstances, but, well. It’s Grey.”
“Figures.”
Moments later, her phone buzzed again—a text this time. She read it quickly before turning the screen around and showing it to Wesley. “They’re up the hall,” she said, already collecting her belongings to make for the door.
A nurse who’d tended to Angela during her admission gave her a small wave as she headed out, expecting her to be leaving the building. Angela, however, breezed right by her, solely focused on finding the room number Grey told her. Wesley returned the nurse’s wave in her stead.
“What the hell happened?” Angela asked, all but breaking down the door when she reached the room. Her gaze shifted repeatedly between Tim, sitting irritably on the edge of a bed, and Grey, standing in front of him with an expression on his face like he’d brought his child to the hospital and not his coworker.
“Some bullshit, that’s what,” Tim replied flatly. He gestured vaguely to a few small cuts on his cheek. “I was putting your case files in my car, and a guy straight up ambushed me.”
Angela blinked rapidly, gathering her thoughts. Wesley spoke for both of them. “Are you alright?” he asked, falling in line next to Angela and putting an arm around her waist.
“Yeah,” Tim affirmed. His finger drew circles in the air, pointing to the room around them. “This is all an overreaction.”
“We brought your files,” Grey informed. “They’re in my car. I’ll get them for you once we’re done here.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Tim insisted. “It’s really not that bad. Dude wasn’t very strong—I could have handled him.”
“Mhm,” Grey replied tersely. “Well, be that as it may, you do need a ride. Unless you plan to walk home.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Across town?”
“Fair point.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight…” Angela said, her mind still racing as she tried putting the hundred thousand thoughts in it into actual coherent words. Finally, she landed on, “This guy was after the acolyte files? That’s—how would he even know that’s what you had? Did you manage to see who it was?”
Tim shook his head. “Not really,” he replied. “I got a look, but… I don’t know. I feel like I might have recognized him. Not sure exactly. Whole thing was over basically as soon as it started.” He scoffed. “I mean, who’s to say there’s any significance to it at all anyway? Like I told Sarge, for all I know, it was just some random guy picking the wrong car to steal.”
Angela tsked. “You honestly believe that?”
“No, but…” He rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
ΔΔΔ
“It’ll be fine,” Tim maintained, talking to Genny on the phone as he headed up his driveway to the front door of his house. He waved to Grey as he watched the car back out. “It wasn’t a big deal. I only went to the hospital because Grey made me. But nothing’s really that injured. At worst some bruising. I think I can handle some bruising.”
“Tim?” The voice didn’t come from the phone and definitely didn’t sound like Genny, but Tim pulled it away from his ear and looked at it in bewilderment anyway. It came again, less of a question this time. “Tim.”
He looked up, finding Lucy standing in front of him on the step. “Genny? I gotta go. I’ll call you back later, alright?” Once he hung up, he arched a brow and looked Lucy over. “What are you doing here? I know I said I would come over. I was just about to call you, but I—”
“Angela texted me.”
“Of course she did.”
“What happened?” she asked, hovering her hand over one of several little butterfly-bandaged cuts. In lieu of touching his face, given the circumstance, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around him.
“Nothing,” he replied with a fond but exasperated laugh as he returned her embrace. “Some asshole tried to break into my car. We got in a small fight.”
Lucy stepped back, letting Tim by to open the door and lead the way into the front room. “Why?” she asked, following him over to the bar in the kitchen. She took a seat while he made a beeline for the wine glasses in the cupboard.
“Hell if I know,” he answered. Once he poured both drinks and slid one over to Lucy, he quipped, “You don’t think it has something to do with the acolyte files I was getting for Angela, do you?”
Lucy’s lips parted, but she couldn’t formulate an actual sentence. She just wrapped her hands around her wine glass like she was holding a cup of hot cocoa.
Tim sighed. “It’s nothing to worry about. I promised Genny I’d take tomorrow off just to be on the safe side. Angela’s files are with her at her house. My car is still at the station, so it’s not likely the guy knows where I went. Everything’s taken care of.”
“I wouldn’t call this ‘taken care of,’ Tim.”
“Lucy—”
She shook her head. “I’m just worried about…” She was going to say she was worried about him specifically, but it occurred to her that her anxieties ran a little deeper. So, instead, she said, “All of this, actually. The case. You. Angela.”
He rounded the bar to sit beside her and let her rest her head on his shoulder. “I know you are,” he responded, his voice even and soothing.
“How far do you think this thing can go?” she asked tentatively, not quite sure what she even wanted to hear.
Whatever response it was she had sought, it was decidedly not the one he gave. “I’ve stopped asking myself that.”