Chapter Text
Tim made sergeant three months after he finished training Lucy.
The spot was at Hollywood this time, not helped by any favors but won with the overwhelming support of the men and women who would be serving with him. Lucy was so proud of him she could burst, though she restrained herself from saying so anywhere near Tim's new boot. Stearns was practically doing cartwheels at the thought of not having to spend the rest of the year with Tim as his T.O., and Lucy hadn't bothered telling him how much he was missing out on. He wouldn't have understood, anyway.
(And maybe she was annoyed with Stearns to start with, that he was riding around in her spot and didn't even seem to appreciate it. And maybe she would be more annoyed with him, if it hadn't turned out that Tim Bradford didn't always finish what he started.
He'd stayed for her, though.)
She and Angela took the lead on planning the congratulations/goodbye party, mostly because they all knew he wouldn't want one and they were the two deemed most likely to make him enjoy it anyway. It was a small thing, just at their spot, though enough of the squad showed up that seating was at a premium. Sgt. Grey made a speech. Tim even smiled a few times. It was a good night.
(And if her throat got tight a few times, well, she made sure no one else noticed.)
Of course, this was Tim they were talking about, so he inevitably tried to slip away early. Lucy had been watching for it, following him out into the relative privacy of the parking lot. "You forgot something, Sgt. Bradford."
He turned around at the sound of her voice, raising an amused eyebrow. "You need your bar tab paid again?"
"Hey, you're the one who opened the envelope." She let herself just watch him for a moment, already far too familiar with the ache of missing him. She hadn't seen nearly enough of him over the last few months, not wanting to blow his cover as a terrifying authority figure, but at least she'd had a little time with him.
Not enough, though. And now...
Her smile faded as she took a deep breath and crossed the rest of the distance between them, handing him the small, folded piece of paper she'd been carrying around in her pocket the last two days. She didn't even know if he remembered, but she'd made damn sure it wasn't yellow. "But no. I was talking about this."
He hesitated before taking it, uncertain in a way he almost never was. He slowly opened it, just looking at it for a long moment before meeting her eyes. "I already have your number," he said quietly.
"For professional reasons, which we both know means you won't use it for anything else. So this is me giving it to you again, as a friend." Her chest tightened. "Which even you stopped trying to deny we are, so don't you dare think about starting up again now."
A smile flickered, but there was something heavy in his eyes she couldn't quite read. "A friend, huh?"
"Yeah." Lucy swallowed, trying to pretend her insides weren't shakier than they'd ever been on the job. "So if you ever want to talk, or get a drink, or even just need someone to dogsit Kojo, I'm right here." She gestured to the paper in his hand. "You know my number."
Now his expression had that cracked-open look that always made her chest hurt. He was clearly struggling for something to say, and the idea of what he might come up with was suddenly more than she could handle at the moment. There were so many ways to tell her no, but even the gentlest one would cut things off between them for good.
Lucy took another deep breath. "So that's it." She turned around as she spoke, already heading for the relative safety of the food trucks. "Good luck at Hollywood, and I'll make sure the new T.O. continues to whip Stearns into shape."
She hadn't made it very far when the sound of Tim's voice froze her in place. "Lucy."
No matter how little she wanted to hear it, she couldn't stop herself from turning. "Yeah?"
Her heart stopped when she saw the look on his face, so much like it had been by her hospital bed. "You were the best partner I ever had." His voice was thick. "No question."
With that, he turned and walked away. She watched him go, trying to pretend her eyes weren't filling with tears.
000
He didn't call.
Tim wanted to, a hell of a lot more than he should have. He'd missed her every day since she'd stopped being his rookie, but somehow it hadn't been enough to prepare him for not having her around at all. He settled into his new job well enough, helped by his old command experience and familiarity with the men and women he worked with, but he'd gotten too used to having someone watching his back. He'd gotten too used to having her, even if it was just on the job.
But too much attention from a random sergeant wouldn't be good for Lucy. She had the chance to be something truly great, and he wouldn't get in the way of that just because she'd left a hole inside him.
That resolve lasted almost six months. Then they lost one of the squad, a good, dedicated officer who died protecting a civilian during a shootout. He'd be lauded as a hero, but that didn't do much for the wife and two kids who weren't ever going to see him again. The oldest had just about finished her first year of college.
After he'd reached out to Foster's family and helped make sure the case against the shooter was air tight, he ignored his own advice and went home. The situation spun endlessly around in his head, and maybe if he stared at it long enough he'd realize what he could have done to keep this from happening.
By 11, he was staring at her number in his phone's contacts list. She was still listed as Officer Chen, though it had been a long time since she'd been that in his head, and his finger hovered over the "call" button like an alcoholic staring at a bottle of whiskey. He hadn't once considered calling Rachel, even earlier when the time difference between L.A. and New York wouldn't have made it impossible, but he'd been heading toward this moment the entire damn day.
Eventually, his thumb fell. He pressed the phone against his ear, half hoping she wouldn't pick up, but it wasn't long before the call connected and her voice echoed in his ear. "Tim?"
He closed his eyes, chest squeezing tight. He could hear the sounds of laughter in the background, a group of people unwinding out on the town, and he hated himself just a little bit more. "Never mind. I shouldn't have—"
"Tim Bradford, don't you dare hang up that phone." The snap of the order, along with the edge of emotion behind it, stilled his hand faster than anything else could have. The background noise faded as she found a quieter corner, and when she spoke again her voice had gone almost painfully gentle. "We all heard about Foster. I'm sorry." Another silence, heavier this time. "And I'm only saying this because I know exactly what you're thinking, but it wasn't your fault. This is what we all sign up for."
Tim opened his eyes again, letting out an unsteady breath. He didn't believe her, not really – he should have done something – but the tightness in his chest still eased a little. "Just talk to me. Please." He swallowed. "I don't care about what."
He heard her just breathing for a moment, and even that was almost enough. "You're going to regret saying that," she said finally, and he could practically hear the smile in her voice. "Jackson is apparently the last person in the world to discover 'Downton Abbey,' which means he's forcing us all through it. I know so much more about these people than I ever wanted to, and you're going to hear all of it."
Tim was almost surprised to find his own lips curving upward. "Bring it."
She laughed, launching into a detailed explanation, and he let the sound of her voice carry him away.