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Tim walked through the empty hall, gun drawn, peripheral vision stretched in every direction he could manage. Slowly, he pushed each door in his path open, quickly scanning for their suspect before moving on to the next, cursing Los Angeles for having so many abandoned buildings. Just when he started towards a shadow he saw move left at the end of the hallway, he heard her.
“7-Adam-100, B to A, in pursuit of the suspect, first floor, east hallway,” his partner’s voice spoke through his radio, exerted enough to let him know she was running.
With that, he ran, remaining vigilant in case the suspect, Ryan Cornish, had any help with him that his report didn’t include. As he made his way back down the hall, Tim faintly heard Lucy barking orders, and he assumed she’d caught up to the suspect and given him no escape. He heard her tell him to turn around slowly with his hands in the air, get down on the ground, repeat the order louder. Then he heard a thud, and a cry from her he knew too well. Pain.
He sprinted down the stairs, hearing blows landing, cries of pain and frustration, those of a man mixed in with Lucy’s. After what felt like forever, he made it from the west hallway on the second floor to the place she said she’d be. There was one door, slightly ajar, all the way at the end of the hall, and Tim dashed for it.
Throwing the door fully open, he had no time to waste by taking in the scene properly because his partner was pressed against the wall, her blows on the suspect doing nothing as his hands wrapped tighter around her throat. Within seconds, Tim was tasing him and he writhed in pain on the ground. The moment he was in cuffs, he looked to Lucy, who was running a soothing hand over her throat, breathing deeply.
“I had him,” she croaked out.
“I know you did,” he answered. “Let’s go.”
After processing Ryan Cornish, Tim made his way to the room where Lucy had already started the paperwork. He eyed her, watching her hands for shaking, and monitored the way she winced when she cleared her throat.
“Keep staring at me like that and you’re buying lunch,” she declared without looking up from her papers.
“Nice try. Little strangling doesn’t get you free lunch.”
Lucy laughed lightly, but it was enough to irritate her throat and he watched her wince again. She must have seen the concern in his eyes when she finally looked up at him, because she reassured, “I’m fine, Tim.”
He nodded once, not lying to her with a verbal agreement. He knew her voice would get hoarse later on and she’d notice long finger-shaped bruises on her neck. But she’d shake it off like she always did, like it was getting harder for him to do when it came to her.
He was about to remark about a couple of her uniform shirt buttons still undone from the fight when he saw it. He stared at her chest and neck to make sure he hadn’t somehow missed it, but his heart fell as his fear was confirmed.
“What?” she asked, eyes darting over his face. She started to repeat her question, but the word slipped away when she did what she always did when she got nervous nowadays: she reached for her necklace.
The color drained from Lucy’s face as she rubbed her chest, feeling for what she knew wasn’t there. “Tim?” she asked, with shaky breaths. “Tim, my- my necklace. I was wearing it under both shirts, I...”
He jumped into solution mode. “I’ll check the shop. It might have fallen off in there once we got back.”
She nodded, but there was no confidence behind her eyes as she continued to run her hand over her empty chest.
Tim looked in every nook and cranny of the shop. He searched the sides of the seats and underneath, in the backseat cushions to see if maybe their suspect had tried to steal it and accidentally wedged it there. He had Cornish searched again, every pocket, every fold of his clothing. Nothing. All in view of the table where Lucy was working. He met her eyes, and she saw the lack of good news in his face. He watched as she put her paperwork to the side for later, and calmly walked out of the room.
He followed to the break room, where he found her pacing back and forth, worry etched across every feature. “Chen,” he addressed, not breaking her out of her panic even a little bit. “Talk to me.” She shook her head and continued to pace. “Look, I can see if there are any units in that area, ask them to check-”
“No! Tim-” she stuttered, trying to pick coherent words from her feelings. “It’s a silver necklace. In a building known for drug deals and squatters. It’s gone.” Her voice cracked on the last sentence, and Tim took a step toward her. “Don’t,” she warned.
He didn’t listen, continuing to walk toward her, and despite her warning, she didn’t move from his advance. The moment his hand landed on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, her face crumbled into heartbreak. He didn’t need to pull her in, he just accepted her when she came to him, leaning her face into his shoulder and grabbing at his shirt behind his back. “I know,” he whispered into her hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“No, I-... that was the one thing… the only thing-”
He gently shushed her, hearing what she couldn’t say out loud. That necklace was the one thing she had left from Jackson and the only thing that still connected her to him. And Tim could feel from her gentle sobs in his arms that losing the necklace felt like losing Jackson all over again. And there was nothing he could do but hold her as she fell through the hole of grief another time.
Buying her lunch didn’t help. Embarrassing stories from his past didn’t help. Lucy was quiet for the rest of the day, only speaking when it was work-related. Sometimes, he’d ask her work-related questions just to hear her voice for a second, to make sure she was still with him. But she wasn’t. She was looking out the window, fidgeting with her hands to keep herself from touching her chest, watching the city roll by as if she’d spot her necklace lying on the sidewalk somewhere. At the end of their shift, he waited for her outside the locker room. “I said I’m fine, Tim. Many times today,” she sighed, upon seeing him.
“I know,” he said, starting their walk to the parking garage. “I’m just walking with you.”
“Walking with that… pity face you’ve had all day.”
“Lucy, you know me well enough to know I’d never pity you.”
He was right, and she knew it. “Then what is it?”
“You feel alone. I want you not to.”
She started to say something before deciding against it, and Tim figured she was about to lie and say she didn’t. Instead, she accepted his company, walking with him in silence until they reached her car.
“If you…” He was gonna suggest she let him know if she needed anything, but she knew this time, her request would be physically possible, and he still wouldn’t be able to grant it. “Yeah…” he trailed off.
“Thanks, Tim,” she said, opening her car and climbing in, before closing the door behind her. With a small wave, she pulled out, driving away and leaving Tim standing alone in the parking garage at a loss.
He knew Lucy didn’t get a proper goodbye, and thanks to her undercover operation, she hadn’t seen him in the few weeks before his death. She had just arrived at the wedding when Jackson and Angela were taken. The last time she’d seen him was in passing, her rushing in after the opp and him rushing out to set up for Angela. Lucy had planned to properly reunite with her best friend after the wedding. She’d planned a night of tequila, ice cream, and watching trashy reality television on their couch, recounting the details of the operation, relishing how proud he would have been of her for how well she did. But fate had other plans that put Lucy on Tim’s couch instead. Tim knew she put on a brave face when she could, but ever so often, something would remind her of Jackson and he’d see a flash of pain across her face before she came back to herself.
The Wests had pretty much all of Jackson’s belongings and Tamara had his room. Lucy had barely anything, nothing with as much meaning behind it as that necklace. She shouldn’t have to lose that too.
The line rang once, then again, then Tim’s call was picked up on the third ring. “Commander West speaking,” the caller answered.
“Commander West,” Tim repeated. “It’s Sergeant Bradford.”
“Bradford? Calling to file a report?”
“Not exactly. Would you happen to have a spare of those Saint Michaels necklaces?”
Tim headed straight to Percy West’s house from the precinct and waited at the door. After a couple of minutes of waiting, West opened the door, giving Tim a nod.
“Bradford,” he greeted.
“Hello,” he replied. “Thank you for doing this again.”
“No worries. If she ever needs another one, let me know in advance, these take a few hours to get made.”
Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “Get made? You get these custom?”
“Yeah,” West answered, clearing his throat. “But, uh, you can have this one, it’s something of a spare now.”
Tim didn’t know Commander West all that well, but he could easily read between the lines of what he was avoiding saying. The necklace Tim was being handed was once Jackson’s. “Sir, I-”
“It’s okay,” West said, cutting off Tim’s protests. “She should have it.”
The necklace felt heavy in Tim’s hands, and he muscled down the urge to shed a tear. Tim had his own feelings about Jackson’s death, but the people in his life were so much closer to Jackson than he was, so he channeled his energy into being there for them. And he was absolutely not about to break that streak in front of Jackson’s father of all people.
“Thank you, sir.”
“How is she?” Percy surprised Tim by asking. “How is Lucy?”
“She’s good. She has a foster kid living in Jackson’s old room. Tamara. Good kid.”
West nodded with a gentle smile. “He’d want that.”
Tim wanted to say something, but he knew that nothing he could say would alleviate the pain of losing a child. “Thank you again.”
“Of course. You take care of yourself, Bradford. Tell Lucy I said the same.”
Tim nodded and waved goodbye, leaving the Wests’ doorstep, and pulling his phone out for another call.
“Hey,” Angela answered almost immediately.
“Hey,” he greeted back. “Can I cash in on one of those favors you owe me?”
The next morning, Lucy got into work when the roll call was starting, so Tim didn’t have a chance to talk to her before. When they went together to get their equipment for the day, however, he could see she was lighter than she was yesterday. Her neutral face looked more like herself than the drained frown she’d had for hours. He peered over her collar and saw Jackson’s thin silver chain peeking out from her undershirt.
“Lose something, Sarge?” she asked, grabbing their shotguns.
“Nope,” he responded, signing off for the items they’d grabbed.
“Good! Let’s go.”
After checking their shop, Lucy got into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and running her hand over her heart, softly smiling when she felt the carved Saint Michael pendant. “So what did you do?” she asked, looking out the window.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tim answered, checking his passenger rearview mirror.
She looked over at him, clearly not believing. “Tim…”
Tim knew that Lucy’s moonstone ring meant different things to the two of them. For Tim, it was a symbol of Lucy’s strength. He carried it on him for two weeks as a reminder that she was okay, that she was breathing, until he realized she needed that reminder more than he did. But since the night he gave the ring back to her, Tim knew that Lucy now associated the ring with him more than herself. Her first thought wasn’t of her dropping the ring, it was of him finding it. It was of him carrying it on his person for two weeks and planning to hold it longer. It was always like that whenever he showed the depths of his heart for her- she cherished the moment and held onto it forever.
Tim was happy to be as special to her as he was, but this was one thing he couldn’t touch. He and Lucy had enough things, physical and intangible, connecting them to each other. This necklace was for Lucy and Jackson, no one else. So he’d stopped at Angela’s to give it to her to drive over to Lucy’s apartment, making her promise to remember to tell Lucy who the necklace belonged to and how Jackson would want her to have it but never tell her of his own involvement. Afterward, Angela called Tim to let him know she’d accepted the gift. Some tears were shed, a hug was shared, but overall, she seemed happy to feel even more connected to him than she had the day before. Tim was glad to know she was happy, and even gladder that she’d gotten to experience that moment with someone as close to Jackson as she was.
“Angela saw us in the break room yesterday,” he finally explained. “She saw you crying and asked me what was wrong with you. I told her and she asked if you’d want her to get you another necklace.”
“And you said yes?” Lucy asked.
“Yeah.”
“And that’s all you did?”
“Yup.”
As Lucy squinted at him, he prayed that just this once, her ability to read him would falter. He also prayed she wouldn’t ask any further questions, as his resolve to lie to her was getting weaker with each one.
Finally, she directed her attention back to starting their patrol, letting Tim exhale just a little. He hoped that she wasn’t disappointed that he had nothing to do with it, and he knew it was better for her, in the long run, to think he hadn’t. He knew it was only a matter of time before life would throw him another opportunity to go above and beyond for Lucy Chen, and whether or not she knew about it, he’d always do anything for her.