Chapter Text
Lucy’s parked in front of his house staring out the windshield at the front window. His lights are on, she knows he’s home, probably watching the Dodgers. She’s not ready to leave the sanctuary of her car, needs more time to gather her courage, settle her breathing, get her hands to stop shaking, find the right words.
The adrenaline and fear she’d felt just an hour earlier are still written on her face. Pushing back the hairs that have slipped out of her ponytail doesn’t do much to make the reflection staring back at her from the visor mirror any less wild. There’s no hiding the scrapes, cuts, and bruises blooming on her face.
Driving away would be the easier option, probably the kinder one too, for both of them. He would never even know she’d been here. Lucy inhales in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, she doesn’t have it in her to be kind tonight. She needs this moment with him, whatever it ends up being, doesn’t even know what she needs it to be. The only truth she has for sure is that she can’t go undercover indefinitely without seeing him first.
Before she can change her mind she forces herself out of the car and up the stone path to his door. While she waits for him to pull it open she listens to Cujo bark, can picture him wiggling excitedly at the door, and hears Tim’s voice trying to quiet him. There’s no more time for thinking, the door is open and Tim’s eyes are narrowing in fury as he takes in her injuries.
He doesn’t say anything, just opens the door wider, grabs Cujo by his collar, and steps back to let her in. He has a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue, but instead of letting them all spew out, he just crosses his arms over his chest and waits her out.
Her eyes track his movement and settle on his biceps, distracting even in the henleys he’s so fond of. Swallowing hard she forces her eyes to his face, “I’m sorry,” they’re the only words she can find.
He knows with startling clarity what she’s come here to tell him, what she needs him to say. He’ll try to give it to her, but he needs a minute first. Tim closes his eyes briefly and leaves her standing in his living room with their dog without a word. He still doesn’t say anything when he returns a moment later and guides her to sit on a barstool under the pendant lights hanging over his kitchen counter.
Lucy can’t remember the last time Tim was this close to her. He’s so far in her personal space as he gently cleans and tends to her cuts, his fingers skimming over her face. All she would have to do is lean forward an inch or two and she would be able to rest against his solid chest. He would take her weight, hold her up, and it’s so tempting to let him just for a second. “I’m going undercover. Tonight. After I leave here. I wanted you to hear it from me. Didn’t want to leave without….” She trails off.
His fingers still briefly on her cheek, but still he stays quiet. His eyes drift closed again, her words hitting him everywhere like flying debris from a detonated bomb. She doesn’t have to tell him the assignment is indefinite.
“I know you think I’m making a mistake,” she continues talking, hoping to find the right words to pull some reaction out of him. “Harper tested me. Spent all day putting me through my paces. She thinks I’m ready. She thinks I can do this.”
He drops his hands from her face and steps back from her, “and you think I don’t? I know what you can do Lucy, what you’re capable of. I don’t need you to prove it to me.” There’s barely contained fury in his voice.
“This isn’t about you,” she’s thinking about her next words carefully.
A humorless laugh rips out of him, “then why are you here? What do you need from me if you have Harper?”
“It’s not about her either,” he doesn’t laugh again, but Lucy knows he doesn’t totally believe her. Tim knows her, knows how deeply her need for praise and approval runs. “I have to prove to myself that I can do this.”
Her words, knowing who and what is motivating them, have his fury burning off as quickly as it ignited. Fatigue is all that’s left and he lowers himself onto the barstool next to hers, angling his body so he’s facing her, “what do you need from me?” He was always going to give her whatever she needs to be able to do this successfully and come back. He's pretty sure he knows, but he needs her to spell it out for him, can't afford to get it wrong.
“I…” She looks down at her hands trying to figure out what to tell him. She had been preparing for more of a fight, thinking of more words to defend her choice. “I can do this, right?” It doesn’t matter that she’s already told him that’s not what she came here for. She feels like she’s about to dive off a cliff, and while there’s an undeniable reckless appeal, does anyone actually know if they can survive the fall before they leap?
“Yes,” it’s quiet, but his conviction is unwavering. He reaches out to run his thumb over the knuckles of her left hand, “you can do whatever you set your mind to. You don’t let anyone stand in your way, remember? Not me, not even yourself.” She’s been impressing him since her second shift when she pulled him out of the line of fire after he’d been shot doesn’t think there’ll come a time when she stops.
Lucy nods even manages a small smile. Her eyes are following the movement of his thumb across her knuckles. She wants to sit here all night and take this quiet comfort from him, but Harper’s waiting for her. “Thanks,” it’s barely a whisper. She reluctantly pulls her hand away and stands.
It’s his turn to nod. He tries to return her smile, but can’t make himself do it, “you’ll do great.”
Her smile widens a touch, “no doubt.”
There are so many more things Lucy wants to do, wants to tell him before their moment ends. She desperately wants to hold him tightly, her cheek against his chest. Wants to promise him she’ll be back safe and sound sooner than they know. More than anything she wants to make him promise to find her if things go sideways.
She does none of those things despite how badly she wants, maybe even needs to. Instead, she reaches out to squeeze his hand briefly, stops on her way out the door to bury her face against Cujo, presses a kiss to his snout. “Take care of our guy,” she whispers against his fur.
Lucy lets herself look back at Tim once. He’s risen from his stool, is watching her go, the expression on his face, not one she can remember seeing before. Taking a deep breath, she turns to leave, pulling the door shut behind her.