Chapter Text
Lucy stares at the ceiling. Its all she can do to not fixate on the way he is stubbornly embedded in every single fiber of her being. She doesn’t dare turn to the left, because his smell still lingers on the pillow. She adds to a mental list that she needs to change the sheets. She chances a glance at the clock on her desk and it angrily reads 3:37 AM back at her. Her eyes drift to the post it note behind it. Neat black letters spelling words that felt like comfort, words that had never rang truer to her, words that now feel like a lie, like a farce. She tries to force herself to look at something else, anything really, but the words taunt her.
She abruptly gets up, anger fueling her steps. Her feet carry her all the way to her linen closet where she keeps extra boxes. She opens one and starts packing everything she can see that belongs to him. Might as well pack her heart while she’s at it. Slow tears make their way down her face as she picks up shoes and coffee mugs. She goes to her bathroom and packs his toothbrush and his razor and she tries not to breathe when she steps into the shower to grab his shampoo and body wash. Her room is next, and she wants to sob at the fact that the box is almost full and she still hasn’t packed half of his stuff.
She goes to grab another box and her KIA radio stares mockingly back at her. It gave its life for yours. It whispers and she chokes on angry sobs. So she grabs it and throws it in the box. She starts piling clothes on top of it from the drawers that were his on her dresser. Shirts, flannels, jeans, boxers. Once she’s done and she’s closing the drawers shut, the 17st place trophy that was carefully placed on top of the dresser catches her eye. She groans and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. She drops the box and falls to the floor not able to keep it together anymore. You could never disappoint me. And it breaks her, it breaks her in a way her parent’s disapproval hadn’t. It splits her apart in a way Jackson’s death didn’t. It tears at her from the inside like scoring 17 on the detectives exam hadn’t been able to. Because for all of those things, she had him by her side. Fighting for her.
Her sobs shake her, a guttural scream breaks free from her throat. And nothing had ever hurt like this. She claws at her neck when she can’t breathe and the necklace he had given her for valentine’s day catches in her fingers. She thinks its the last thing of his choking her out, suffocating her, cutting off her air supply. So she snaps it off her neck and throws it in the box.
With great effort she gets up, picks up the post it note and sticks it on the trophy. Carefully placing it on top of the last of his clothes. She looks around, feeling lighter somehow that she isn’t being consumed by his presence. And while she still feels him underneath her skin, running through her veins, its a step in moving on.
She puts both boxes near the entrance of her home. She’ll get it back to him tomorrow, or maybe the next day. She’ll get to the station early and place it carefully on top of his desk. And she’ll never have to see him again, feel him again. With that thought she lets sleep finally take her.
—
The boxes mock her from the passenger’s seat and she can’t wait to be rid of them. She gets to the station. Its mostly empty so she walks as fast as she can to his office. The boxes don’t let her see much above her but it doesn’t matter. She blindly knows the way. She can see from the corner of her eye that the door is open and doesn’t think much of it until something collapses with her and the boxes go flying off her hands. Its contents strewn out in the hallway. She curses, and when she looks up her breath catches.
Its Tim, in his patrol uniform, but he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at the floor and she swears she sees a hint of hurt in his eye as they register everything the box was carrying. As he, quite literally, stares at their relationship. Lucy can’t help but feel its adequate. She starts picking everything up carelessly. Throwing the things back in the box without a care in the world. And Tim can just stare. Once she’s done she gets up and hands him the boxes.
“Here”
She’s about to turn around and go to the locker room to cry her eyes out when his voice stops her.
“What umh whats all this?” - he clears his throat.
“Its your stuff” - she says looking anywhere but at him.
“Some of this isn’t mine though” - she can see him swallow.
“Oh no its all yours. I don’t want it” - and he flinches.
She almost feels bad when she sees him look down and stroke her necklace in between his fingers. But then she remembers worth the effort, and unless it is, and grandkids, and most important relationship in her life and she turns around. She’s almost to the corner of the hallway, a tear making its way down her cheek when he calls out for her again.
“Lucy”
And like on autopilot, hope stubbornly blooms in her chest.
“Mmh?” - she hums. Face tear stained.
He grabs something from his pocket and her heart clenches when she realizes he’s taking the key to her apartment off of his keychain. He holds it in his hand for a second, strokes it and extends his hand towards her. She grabs it, goosebumps erupt when their fingertips touch and she sucks in a breath. She nods at him in lieu of a thank you and quite literally runs away.
She wants to go to the locker room and change out and go to patrol. But her legs once again betray her and take her straight to Grey’s office.
“I want a transfer”
She blurts out. Grey looks up startled. He takes his glasses off and stands up.
“Lucy are you okay?” - he asks, a welcome hand in her shoulder.
“Transfer me to another station please. I’ll take any assignment” - and she sobs and he holds her for a long time.
Once she comes up for air, Grey looks at her heartbroken, nonplussed.
“Are you sure Lucy?”
She takes a second to look around the station where she became a cop. Where she was trained, and made lifelong friendships, and fell in love. Where her best friend died, where her career plummeted, where the love of her life left her.
“Yes”
And he nods as he starts the paperwork.
—-
Its been weeks and he’s tired. Tired of Angela glaring at him. Of Grey side eyeing him. Of Nyla scoffing. Of Aaron being his aide and bringing up his breakup every chance he gets. Only person he’s not tired of, weirdly, its Nolan. But he supposes its because he doesn’t care. He’s been going to therapy and against his better wishes he has to admit its actually working. He knows he has a long way to go. But for now he feels lighter, almost normal.
So he patrols and misses Lucy. He goes home and misses Lucy. He showers, he eats, he watches sports and misses Lucy. When he dreams, its full of Lucy. He sees her at the station occasionally and he’s tried talking to her, tell her he’s seeking help, getting better. He knows it will take a while for her to forgive him, to even give him a chance again, even if he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. But he’s determined to fight for them, doesn’t matter that he’s too late. Because he promised her.
Its end of shift. His feet drag him to the locker rooms. He opens his locker and the glint of her necklace taped against the metal door constricts his chest. He looks at her radio and her trophy on the second shelf of the locker and sighs. Strokes both of them and closes his eyes. He’ll get her back. He has to get her back.
He doesn’t shower, wanting to get out of there as fast as he can but when he gets out of the lockers, a commotion in one of the break rooms catches his attention.
Everyone is there, including Smitty and somehow Bailey, there’s a cake and balloons and his heart stops when Lucy’s radiant smile is in the middle of it all. He stays back in the hallway not knowing whats going on but wanting to. Desperately wanting to. His eyes stray to a sign above her head that reads “We’ll miss you” and his pulse rate increases. His heart falls to his stomach and when he looks back at her, her smile is gone and she’s staring right at him. He’s about to leave, to schedule an emergency appointment with his therapist when she excuses herself and meets him outside.
“Hi” - she says. Uncharacteristically shy. Uncharacteristically Lucy.
“Hi. Whats-umh-whats going on?” - he manages to get out, grabs onto his backpack for support.
“I’m transferring” - she says like its casual. Something she does every Tuesday.
He swallows deep, tears straining at his eyes. They bore into hers almost pleading.
“Why?” - he’s almost afraid to ask.
“Rookies leave their first station after making P2 all the time” - she raises an eyebrow at him.
He closes his eyes and his mind takes him back to a time where she was riding next to him. Where their biggest problem was him being on her chain of command. Where she was his and he was hers and nothing had ever felt more right to the point where he took a desk job for her. And he remembers that night too, touching her for the first time. Savoring her, loving her.
“Can we talk about this please? I’ve been getting better, going to therapy, I’ve been, God, I’ve missed you I-“
She takes a step back, eyes glazed over.
“You don’t get to do this again. You’re not the only one who has problems. I’m happy for you. Thrilled that you’re getting help and are opening up and getting better. But you broke me” - her voice cracks in that way that tugs at his heartstrings. “I need this. I need to heal from this. Goodbye, Tim” - she manages to get out and goes back into the room. Plastering a smile on her face.
And for the second time in his life, he lets her go.