Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Alright, last but not least, the Neiman trial. The DA’s caught whispers about Jasper Neiman possibly making a move against those set to testify against him. As a precaution they’ve decided to put their key witnesses into WITSEC. Night shift has already assessed and cleared the new locations, they need us to transport. Chen, Juarez, Smitty, Jan, and Thorsen — it’s your lucky day,” he says as he motions the five to the front before dismissing the rest of patrol, “all right, be safe out there.” 

The room fills with chatter once roll call comes to and end and bodies shuffle out ready to hit their beat. She heads toward the front,having picked the wrong day to be running late, as she weaves through her fellow officers who head out toward the back door as she pushes through to get to the front where Grey waits now alongside Angela and Nyla.

“Okay,” Grey starts once they've all reached the podium, handing out a folder to each pair as he assigns them off, “Chen and Juarez, you get Witness A; Smitty and Jan, you get Witness B; and Thorsen, you’re with the detectives, you get Witness C.” 

She shoots Celina a quick glance as the other reaches for the folder of their assigned witness.

They’ve been following this case now for weeks when news broke about how one of the city’s most treasured organizations was being used as a front for human trafficking; a nonprofit known for helping the city's most vulnerable was the exact one taking advantage of those who needed them the most.

It sent shockwaves through the state though it wasn’t anything surprising for Lucy.

This case has been on her radar for almost a year, since she was one of a few handful who had been tapped to go undercover when the plan had been to strategically plant a few UC’s into the Los Angeles branch. She'd gotten as far as getting a rundown of the operation, learning about the key players they were trying to get at, and was even assigned a cover: a down on her luck single mother who was desperately trying to get her act together in order to get back custody of her kid from the state.

There were five of them total across different divisions that had been picked but in the end, they only sent in two, and Frida Tsui wasn’t one of them. 

Something that ended up being another blow to the endless hits she seemed to have been taking. It all happened a few weeks after the break up, shortly after the entire mess that unraveled after Mad Dog's death. She wasn't even remotely close to being fine, still reeling from her entire future being pulled from under her in more ways than one, but had no choice except to be fine given the circumstances. So when the opportunity came, Lucy took it as a life line she so desperately needed to pull herself from the current that threatened to sweep her under. It was something to distract her from the ache in her chest that haunted her through restless nights. 

So when Grey pulled her into his office just two days before she was set to leave, after she'd gotten her entire life squared away, for the lieutenant running the undercover operation to sit her down and break the news—"thanks but no thanks, we're going in a different direction" was what she'd been told (in a much more diplomatic way)— that really stung. It came as the final punch meant to take her down and keep her there. 

Unbeknownst to her at the time, it likely saved her life.

Ten months later, of the two UC's that went in, only one remains: Noah Foster.

He was assigned the more 'lucrative' cover, placed inside of the organization as an administrative assistant to the VP of the L.A. branch. He was the secondary agent, the focus of his assignment being on locating the paper trail. The primary UC had been Ingrid Young, a first-year detective who was placed into the same environment Lucy would have been put in, among those who were being targeted as victims, the ones who were receiving aid and support from the non-profit. Young had gone in as a recovering addict with solicitation charges, the perfect 'candidate' of those who were being trafficked. A cover that proved to be successful relatively quick as she caught the attention of those they were after, quickly being groomed and manipulated to fit the part they wanted her for.

It was the in that they needed, one that put them on the course to their next phase as they continued to discuss strategy and plan of attack when it almost went up in flames after the detective seemingly vanished into thin air one day.

They were left scrambling as the entire operation was left in limbo, the progress they'd made thus far hanging on by a thread because their direct link to the who of it all was suddenly gone. It shifted how resources were utilized as part of the operation then became finding their missing UC with absolutely zero leads to go on. It was at that time that Noah's role in everything became much more crucial because up until then, he'd only been tasked with following the money not the people. 

After that, almost all became dependent on Noah's undercover assignment and for the better part of six months she heard nothing from her friend except for the occasional update from his handler. It wasn't much, just enough for her to know that he was still alive and at least okay. By the time whispers began to circulate about how they'd found enough evidence to start making arrests and bring down the ring, Lucy knew he'd gone in deep. When the breaking news one evening was the developing story about how several arrests that had been made inside of New Horizons for human trafficking, she knew the op was over.

Except, Noah wasn't immediately pulled out after that. It was odd, the op was over, it'd been successful and yet he remained undercover.  

Something she couldn’t quite figure out why until this very moment.

As if on cue, Celina hands her the open folder with their assigned witness.

Witness A … aka Isaac Whittier … aka Noah Foster.

Lucy draws a sharp breath as she looks up at Grey trying to make sense of the file in her hands. 

“Noah’s a key witness?” 

Grey nods, “We figured since he hasn’t seen a friendly face in almost a year, he’d appreciate being transported by someone he actually knows.”

A smile tugs on the corner of her lips as she nods in response.

“Witness B is a middle-man who agreed to testify for a reduced sentence,” he continues, “and Witness C is the whistleblower who unveiled the entire thing. It goes without saying that the eight of us are the only ones who are aware of these details. The DA’s office is asking for extreme caution and discretion. With Neiman out on bail there’s nothing we should put past him on how he plans to walk away a free man. The sooner we can get these witnesses into protective custody, the better. Everyone’s been assigned a detective’s car for the day and we’ll need to go in plain clothes to not raise any flags. We’ll be using a private channel to stay in communication, the rest of the details are in your boxes. Listen, guys, right now these three witnesses are what stand between a multi-millionaire and a jail cell … so be very careful.

They respond with an array of nods and “yes, sir” before they break and head out toward the locker rooms to change back.

“That could have been you,” Celina points out as they walk through the station.

“Huh?” 

“Noah, testifying, you almost went in too.”

Lucy nods.

Celina isn't wrong but there’s a bit more to it, something she doesn’t actually counter with but instead becomes a train of thought she gets lost in. There’s a knot that tightens at the pit of her stomach sending a surge of misery throughout her body as she thinks about how the case unfolded and how there’s something that doesn’t quite add up.

All of which is tied to the UC’s that were sent in.

There’s Noah, who has been undercover for almost a year, who remains undercover with no clear end date. Then Ingrid, who they’re no closer to finding from when she first disappeared. The latest cautionary tale of what can go wrong while undercover, how a second is all it takes for it to go to hell with one wrong move or one wrong answer. Celina’s observation based on what they were just told is valid except for the fact that deep down, Lucy knows that she wouldn’t have taken the stand.

She would have never gotten the chance to.

She swallows dry as a familiar thought crosses her mind, one that’s haunted her for months not that she’s not dared share it with anyone.

She would have shared that same fate. Still lost somewhere yet to be found … likely a body waiting to be brought home.

Lucy knows this because it’s been seven months since Ingrid disappeared and they’ve got nothing. 

Despite all the leads and discoveries made, none of them have pointed or panned out to provide any type of clue as to what happened to the missing detective. Even after they arrested all the key players, brought down the trafficking ring, shut down the Los Angeles branch, began an investigation over the rest of the organization, and set trial dates for those being charged were they any closer to finding her.

Detective Ingrid Young had become the latest name to be whispered when murmuring about the dangers of undercover work. One that almost carried a different name because Lucy had been a stone’s throw away from being plucked to share that same destiny; because as much as she’d like to believe that the outcome would have been different had she been the one to go undercover instead, the fact of the matter is that the more she learns about this case, the clearer it becomes that she would have also been in over her head.

Skill and sharpness would not have made a difference, as much as she’s able to hold her own and as quick as she is to think on her feet, it wouldn’t have been enough ... and to think that it was ultimately politics that stopped her from going in. 

The official explanation Lucy got for being dismissed from the undercover op was that they had narrowed in on what exactly they needed their UC’s to go in for and it didn’t require as many as they originally accounted. Since Ingrid outranked her on paper, the first-year detective was chosen over the patrol officer despite the fact that Lucy had a few more undercover assignments under her belt. A (still) bitter reminder at her results because she knows she would have placed significantly higher had Prim not blocked her, easily higher than Ingrid.

It was something that kept her awake at night after it happened because of how unfair it all felt. Despite her best efforts it felt like she'd never be able to get out of the hole she'd fallen into no matter how hard she tried. She was angry, for too many reasons that tangled with one another because of how everything all correlated. It wasn't until she decided to let it all go that things started to feel better, when she let the past stay in the past in order to move forward.

Until it all came crashing back when she learned about Ingrid's disappearance. Except she's been haunted by what could have been ever since, taunted by her own ghost as she sees herself in flashes of what may have gone wrong that led to the other woman vanishing. The nightmares that creep up on her, seemingly out of nowhere when her mind tries to fill in the blanks about the puzzle that remains unsolved and tries to make sense of what went so terribly wrong for the detective to be nowhere to be found.

It was such a close call and yet why does it feel like she’s not actually in the clear?

“Hey, Lucy?” Celina questions, “you okay?” 

Lucy blinks for a moment as she’s pulled out of her thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine," she replies mindlessly. 

Which isn’t exactly a lie albeit not the whole truth. A train of thought she can't allow herself to fall back to as she dismisses the questions that linger to focus on their assigned task.

She’s excited to see a good friend, to catch up with Noah in the limited time they’ll have to take him to the safe house. A task that’ll easily take up most of their morning which is a nice change of pace. So, yeah, she’s okay for what she cares to admit for now — to the world and herself.

“C’mon,” she adds as she pushes the door of the women's locker room open, holding it for Celina to go through first before following behind so they can change and head out.

“We’re here.”

Celina pulls in front of the house, putting the car into park as Lucy radios back to the station to check in with Grey.

“Check back in once you’ve made it to your final location.”

“Yes, sir.” 

They make their way to the front porch as they both casually scan the area while they walk to the door. It’s nice, quaint, the traditional cookie-cutter suburbs with an air of modernism. The perfect place for Noah's cover to call home. 

She draws two sharp knocks against the door as they wait for him to answer.

“Ladies,” he greets them as the door swings open, holding back a smile as his gaze jumps between the two of them. 

She gives him a small nod of acknowledgement as the door opens up a little wider and he takes a step back for both of them to step inside.

“It’s been a while, Hot Pants!” he laughs, properly greeting her with a hug as soon as the front door closes shut behind them. 

“No kidding. Sounds like you’ve had a hell of a year,” she teases though her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I’ll say,” he shakes his head as he lets go to greet Celina, giving her a quick hug too, “hey, Shorty!” 

“Hey, Noah,” Celina laughs as she hugs him back, “you ready?”

“For Isaac Whittier to go into WITSEC?” he muses dryly, “can’t wait.”

“That bad?” she asks.

“Let’s just say we’ll need to grab a few rounds after this is all over to properly fill you in,” he teases, “and each of you will have to buy at least one.”

They both stare at him for a moment though their reactions are different.

Lucy rolls her eyes, amused by his antics but not unfazed while Celina’s trying to make out just how serious he is.

“Fine,” they both agree. 

“But we should get going, we need to have you at the new location before noon,” Lucy adds, “do you have everything you need?”

“You mean my entire life packed in a bag?” he points toward the duffle bag tucked under the entryway table with a suitcase in front of it, “yeah, all set.”

“Alrighty then,” Celina starts, “Let’s go.”

It takes them almost an hour to get to where Noah’s being placed in the interim of the trial, on the opposite end of town in what seems like yet another quiet suburb.

“Home sweet home,” he says as they pull into the driveway and both women turn over their shoulders to glance at him as he gives them a half-shrug in response. 

“Ready?” Lucy asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” he answers and she doesn’t miss the slight deflection in his tone. She knows he’s done a few longer undercover operations but those ended after a few months, this was the first that has taken him away from his life for almost a year, the first where it landed him in witness protection.

She offers a small smile before turning to pop the trunk open. “Night shift cleared the place yesterday but I can do a quick sweep while you guys bring in everything?” She suggests referring to the suitcase and duffel bag he was allowed to bring, the last year of his life all fitting into two pieces of luggage. 

“Sure.” 

Lucy heads toward the front door as Celina and Noah stay behind, hovering over the trunk to grab his things and follow behind. 

She draws her weapon once she enters as a precaution despite knowing she likely doesn’t need it. It’s a small house that she clears pretty easily, back at the living room as the other two make their way in with Noah’s things. 

“All good?”

Lucy nods, stepping to the side to let them in before closing the door behind them. She reaches for her radio, fiddling with the dial to change it to the right channel to check in. “Sarge, it’s Chen. We just made it to our final destination with Witness A — is there anything else you need us to do?”

“Great,” he answers, “Lopez, Harper, and Thorsen as still en route, Jan and Smitty have yet to head out. Call Del Monte to let him know and see if there's anything else they need.”

“Copy.” 

She clips her radio back onto her duty belt before pulling her phone from her pocket and dialing the DA. 

“Del Monte,” he answers.

“Hey, it’s Lucy. Witness A’s been secured, we’re at the final location. Do you need us to hang around or anything?” she asks.

“Actually, yeah, that’d be great,” he answers, “we have units on their way to keep watch but without knowing what Neiman’s next move might be, we’d rather keep someone with him at all times until the trial is over.”

“Got it, we’ll stick around then.”

“Thanks, Lucy.” 

“Any time.” 

She ends the call, locking the phone as she slides it back into her pocket as both Noah and Celina wait for an update.

“Looks like you’re stuck with us for a little while longer,” she teases.

Noah rolls his eyes as Celina laughs, “Guess you’re not the worst two to be stuck with.”

Now it’s Celina who rolls her eyes, scoffing in response as Lucy throws him a playful punch. 

“Keep it up and you just might be,” she warns.

“Yeah, whatever,” he rebuffs as he takes a step back, turning toward the kitchen, “y’all hungry? Let's see what they stocked up on this time.”

“I could eat,” Celina answers nonchalantly. 

“Careful,” Lucy warns as she follows him into the kitchen, taking a glance back at Celina as she follows behind, “he’s not a great cook.” 

“Hey!” he protests, “that was one time and it was a group effort!”

Noah starts to rummage through the fridge as the two women take a seat at the table in front of the kitchen and Lucy fills her in, “So the one downside of UC school was the food, what they offered was okay at best but they had a kitchen for anyone who preferred to cook their own meals. One night a few of us decide we’d rather have a home cooked meal so we try to make dinner together and everything was going great until it’s time to eat—well, it turns that Noah and this other guy that were in charge of making the mashed potatoes didn’t talk to each other and ended up doubling the amount of spices it needed.”

There’s a bewildered expression across Celina’s features, “That sounds—”

“Disgusting?” Lucy laughs, “oh, it was! We weren’t able to eat any of it.”

“See, group effort,” Noah stresses as they all laugh, “don’t listen to her, I promise I’m a much better cook than she’s giving me credit for.”

“Approach with cautious optimism, Celina,” she warns as he shoots her a deadpan glare. 

Celina chuckles as raises both hands up in front of her, “I promise I’ll be a fair judge.”

“At least someone will.”

Lucy returns the same expression before protesting back, “I am fair! You’re just not a great cook!”

“According to you!”

“According to everyone at UC school! Noah, you’re great at a lot of things but cooking isn’t one of them,” she laughs, “trust me, I know great cooks and you my friend, are not one.”

“Because of your vast connections with five-star Michelin chefs?” he teases.

She rolls her eyes in response.

“Fine, name one person we both know who is a great cook.”

Lucy’s lips fall into a thin line as she ponders it, the Venn diagram of people they both know and people who have cooked a meal before for them is relatively limited.

“Tim,” she answers after a moment and it’s his turn to debate what she just said.

She shoots a glance to Celina who watches amused and nods in agreement, that diagram is even more limited when her roommate’s pulled into it but Tim still remains the intersection between the three for those two elements. 

“Fine,” he huffs after a moment admitting defeat, “your boyfriend is a great cook.” 

She’s unable to savor the win for very long as it’s clouded by the misinformed sentence that comes with it. She catches out of the corner of her eye how Celina frowns and knows how it matches her own reaction by the confusion that’s hit Noah as he stares back at them both.

“Oh, he’s not—we broke up,” she admits, realizing it’s been a while since she’s had to say those three words to almost anymore. It’s months since they broke up and while that hole left in her chest has become significantly smaller to where things have vastly improved between them, there's not a day that goes by that she doesn't miss what she lost.

“Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry,” he answers, “I-I didn’t know.”

And how was he supposed to?

In between the break up and actually going undercover, the only time she’d been able to talk to him had been when they had pulled in all five UC’s for a three hour debrief in which they went over the operation as a whole and each learned of who else would be joining them undercover. She’d had maybe fifteen minutes to talk to him about something other than the case they were both about to be working on and in that time, filling in her friend on her current heartbreak didn’t seem pertinent, not to mention it wasn’t the right time or place for her to open up like that.

“It’s fine,” she shakes her head, offering a smile, “it happened a while ago, actually.”

And it’s something she can’t help but focus on, the way it’s just another example of how life doesn’t stop when you’re undercover and how much there is to miss during a long term assignment. 

This bit of information he wasn’t privy to isn’t even something that has to do with him, it has no impact on his life, just something that changed in his friend’s life in the meantime — so what does that say to his own life? If she were to go on a long term assignment, what in her own life would she come back to that’s vastly different? 

There’s a slight nudge that she has to ignore, this little inkling that wants her to explore the thought of what that could be, specifically where that would leave her and their current subject of discussion. 

None of that has ever been lost on her, Lucy’s always been aware of the sacrifices that come with doing undercover work but somehow the scales now feel substantially different because once upon a time that was something they’d figure out together. Despite Tim’s hang ups with it, she knew they’d be okay because they were together; but they’re not together anymore, and that changes things. 

“He is a great cook though,” she agrees, forcing a smile back onto her lips as she stops herself from further going further down that thought; instead, she tries to shift them back to the fun and light conversation that they had all been sharing just moments before, “he’s also a great baker.”

If either notice the momentarily shift in her demeanor, neither acknowledge it as they follow her lead back into the energy they were sharing. 

“The man can bake too?!” he laughs.

“Better than Lucy,” Celina quips.

“Hey!” she feigns offense.

“C’mon, you know it’s true.” 

Out of the corner of her eye she catches how Noah leans over the counter with a smug look spread across his face.

“Don’t—” she protests, knowing exactly where he’s about to go with it.

“Ya know, Hotpants,” he starts cooly, “you’re great at a lot of things but baking isn’t one of them.”

She shoots him a tight smile while glaring at him, “You’ve never even had anything I’ve baked.”

“And it sounds like I should be thankful for it," he quips.

“Oh, you should!” Celina adds without missing a beat.

“Oh my god! You two are the absolute worst!” she groans before breaking out into laughter, “you know, I’m suddenly so glad I’m an only child. Who needs siblings if they’re anything like you two?” 

“Rude,” Celina remarks with no actual bite as she laughs. 

“Just trying to keep you humble,” he shoots back.

There’s an answer at the tip of her tongue, ready to be morphed into words as her phone goes off and she responds with a glare instead. 

Annoyance that turns into confusion as she pulls out her personal phone to find the caller on the other end being none other than Grey.

Why is he calling her on her personal cell phone if there’s a private channel and their department issued phone he could be calling from?

“Hello?”

“Lucy, are you still at the house?” There’s an edge to his tone that she knows isn’t about to come with good news.

“Yeah,” she answers, as two pairs of eyes fall on her, “Del Monte asked if we could stay until uni’s arrived to keep watch.”

“And you cleared the house once you got there?” 

“Yes, everything was fine,” she explains as she places the phone onto speaker for all of them to hear, “sir, what’s going on?”

The curiosity that both were looking at her turns into concern at this question. She’s hit with that nagging sensation once again of how this case might just end up with its reach wrapped around her as well too.

“A CI just came forward with information about Neiman making a move. He knows about the witnesses being put into WITSEC and there’s a possibility he has the addresses of the temporary placements too, if so there’s a strong chance he’s going do something, we just don’t know what.”

A shared look of concern passes between the three as the lieutenant continues.

“Del Monte’s working with the Feds on securing a new location for all of them with even less people involved now. We’re sending extra units as a precaution but you two need to stay with him until you get word that you can move again, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” she answers, “we’ll bunker down until we hear otherwise.” 

“Be careful.”

“You too.”

With that, the call ends as the three share a moment of silence to process the news. The fact that they’re all armed and trained helps, the fact that they have no idea how they might come under attack doesn’t.

“Looks like this just turned into a party,” Noah breaks the silence with sarcasm.

Both women offer a weak smile at the comment.

“I know I cleared the house but we should clear it again ... just in case.” 

She knows she didn’t miss anything, there’s no one hiding in a closet or behind a curtain, but considering the impending threat she’d rather be safe than sorry.

They nod in agreement. 

“I can take the main floor,” she starts, “Celina if you want to look outside—I’ll join you once I’m done and Noah, can you take the basement?”

“Okay,” they agree in unison.

They may be sitting ducks in not being able to actually leave but like hell will they sit around and wait for something to happen. Lucy knows that the moment they clear the house again, they’re talking strategy.

The living room and kitchen are relatively easy to clear again considering that’s where they’ve been hanging around for the past half hour but she still does so with a little more focus into smaller details, ensuring that anything that could potentially be used as an entry point is completely blocked off, shut, or locked.

She moves down the hall toward the rooms, starting with what appears to be the main bedroom as she does a quick scan around the room. She double checks that both windows are locked, pulling at them to make sure they don’t budge before drawing the curtains shut and moving to the closet. She uses her flashlight this time to look inside of it from corner to corner, ensuring there’s nothing amiss in the empty space before shutting the door and turning to the furniture in the room. 

The echo of the front door closing filters into the room followed by Celina’s voice, “Outside’s all clear!”

“Basement, too!” Noah adds, hearing how he runs up the steps.

“Great!” Lucy calls out, “I’m almost done here, I just need the bathroom and the other room.”

Celina answers with something she can’t quite make out while she checks under the bed. 

“What?” 

“Want help?” 

She catches the question this time as the voice grows closer while she rises back to her feet, taking a step to head back out of the room.

“Yeah, if you wa—” the answer dies in her throat at the unmistakable metallic click that causes her to freeze in place.

No.

No!

No, no, no! This isn't happening.

Her first instinct is to dismiss the obvious despite the fact that she knows better as her body tenses, refusing to move while she tries to downplay the situation. Except the trigger plate shifts under her right as she does and there’s no mistaking what she just stepped onto.

... A bomb.

Chapter Text

“Lucy?” 

They appear at the doorway as Lucy stands frozen near the headboard at the opposite end of the room just a few steps away from the nightstand. Her mind runs a mile a minute as they look at her with a puzzled gaze about to step in.

“Wait, don’t come in here!” 

Their expressions shift from confusion to concern in the millisecond she has to explain how it’s not just a possible threat anymore. Somehow Neiman got ahead of them, finding a way to plant an explosive that they were likely never supposed to see coming if it hadn’t been for Lucy’s misfortunate timing.  

“There’s a bomb,” she says as calmly as she’s able to, “I think I’m standing over a bomb.”

The color drains from Celina’s face as she’s taken by a wave of apprehension while Noah becomes uncharacteristically stoic, if there’s any fear behind his eyes, she can’t find it. It’s a reaction she recognizes from UC school, when faced with a situation with no clear solution but dangerously high stakes – only back then, it was only hypothetical. 

“You’re positive?” Noah verifies.

Lucy nods despite every fiber in her being is screaming ‘no’ out of self-preservation. As much as she wants to pretend this isn’t actually happening, the only thing she’ll achieve with denial is death. There’s absolutely no doubt in her mind that if she takes one step away from where she stands they’ll all be blown to pieces. 

“I felt something give way under my feet.”

“Could it be a wonky floorboard?” Celina asks, still holding onto a piece of hopeless optimism. 

Lucy shakes her head, she has enough knowledge and (unfortunately) first hand experience to know better. “No. I heard a click—there’s a soft buzzing underneath me …"

An eery spell of silence fills the air as they take this in. 

“I need you to call Grey,” she instructs, clear and level headed knowing there’s no time for heightened emotions that’ll only cause her to repeat herself when every second counts. “We need the bomb squad—and they need to stop the others before they make it to their safe houses.”

Celina's hand goes to her duty belt to reach for her radio as Lucy stops her. “Juarez, no.”

It’s a lesson she learned the hard way years ago, one she truly never expected or at least hoped would be relevant because a baby powder IED blowing up in her face was more than enough for her. 

“And you're dead. Because radio frequency energy can trigger a bomb. You gonna forget that lesson, Boot?” 

She hears his voice so clearly as if he’s right beside her, reminding her about what she needs to be careful of. She’d been so pissed at him for it, vowing to get back at him for it, and successfully doing so on her last day as a rookie. It felt like such a pointless lesson at the time, a way for him to get under her skin and just piss her off, and yet, he was absolutely right when he asked her if she’d ever forget that lesson.

No, she wouldn't. It's the only rationale thought she can make out right now.

“Outside, Celina,” she guides her, “radio frequency energy can trigger a bomb and we don’t know anything right now.” She takes a beat to try and make an estimated guess: she answered Grey’s call in the kitchen and she radioed in outside the house after they arrived which means by that measure, that should be a safe enough distance. She can only hope and pray that she didn’t just seal their fate by miscalculating. 

“Okay,” she answers. 

“Noah, you should go with her,” she adds.

“What?” they both object.

“No, Lucy–”

“We don’t know–”

They try to speak over one another before she cuts them off.

Without knowing what they’re dealing with there’s no way to make a rational or safe guess as to how they should proceed. Except, they need to make a call for help before it’s too late and considering the distance from where Lucy stands to the door and where the other two wait, that feels incredibly dangerous. She knows that having them leave is just as dangerous because who knows if there are any more explosives but it's their best option, their only one really; they’ve at least all walked through the same area and haven't triggered anything. 

This at least gives them a higher chance of survival. 

“Please,” she pleads, “both of you. We need to make the call anyway. You might as well just follow her, there’s no need for you to stay here if there’s an opportunity for you to leave.”

The two share a glance and Lucy can tell how much they’re struggling with it but she knows she’s not wrong. As much as she doesn’t want to be left on her own, at the end of the day regardless of what dangerous situation they’re in, their job is to save as many lives as possible. And that’s exactly what she plans on doing.

“We’ll be right outside,” Celina reminds her as turns cautiously toward the hallway.

Noah nods, “We’ll get you out of here, Lucy.”

“I know you will,” she offers a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “be careful.” 

“You too.” 

She watches how reluctance consumes every muscle in their body, how tentative they are to move before Noah finally takes that first step and Celina follows. Neither say a word as she listens to their cautious footsteps, just barely audible and she knows they have the same fear as she does right now, how they may not even make it to the door. 

As the front door opens, Lucy lets out an exhale of relief, listening to how it creaks open before it shuts slowly once again. At least now they have a fighting chance, now they can call for help. It's a reminder she holds onto, deeply and as close as she can, trying to cling to it as a mess of thoughts continues to run through her mind. She wants to remain positive, tries to manifest an outcome where they all make it out of this in one piece. Except that blinding optimism is tainted by the reality of there being more questions than answers. 

It's what causes her life to flash before her eyes because suddenly nothing seems promised—past, present, and future, all unweave before her.

The chain reaction that seems to have brought her here is what first lays out in front of her. How she had no true sense of belonging or purpose until she joined the LAPD. It was then that she discovered what it was to truly be passionate about something; a decision made on a whim that ultimately changed the entire trajectory of her life. It allowed her to make a difference, to be part of the change that was so desperately needed.

That's intertwined with her present, the here and now. How today, on a random Thursday morning in the middle of spring she’s faced with the reality that it might be her last day on earth. The fragility of human life isn’t lost on her, a reminder of how each day shouldn’t be taken for granted, and yet sometimes in the chaos of the day to day, that’s exactly what happens. She had plans to stop by the grocery store after work for some mid-week stock up, a task that seemed so pedestrian when she woke up hours ago, dreading having to make a pit stop when all she wanted was to get home and relax with a glass of wine and a bubble bath. Now, she’s never been more excited at the idea of grocery shopping during the evening rush. 

Then of course, her future—or rather the future she may not get to see. Of the three divisions of time, this is the one that hurts the most because it holds what she might miss out on. A future she was once able to envision so clearly as it unfolded before her, one that was unexpectedly taken from her reach months ago; one that's slowly started to feel back within her grasp as sparks of hope have reignited with each small dose. Will she get to see it?

The loud cry of sirens pulls her from this stream of consciousness, throwing her back into the unknown as flashes of blue and red filter in through the small cracks of the window that the curtain doesn’t fully cover, reflecting onto the white walls in front of her.

She has no idea what’s going on except for the fact that help has finally arrived. Her gut instinct is to feel embraced by a sense of comfort knowing that they’re no longer alone, that there are people outside who are trained exactly for these situations to hopefully prevent a tragedy. The only problem is that they’re walking in just as blind because they have to do their own initial search to better assess the situation before they're able to do anything about her current condition.

So she waits one painstaking second after another. The muffled voices that she can’t quite understand only help so much because she knows they’re finalizing the course of action, aligning into their respective roles as the bomb squad unit takes command. 

God, how she wishes she could have some sort of communication with the outside world right now. 

She can only guess so much on what is actually happening from what she learned at the academy and that still leaves her with more questions than answers. What she wouldn’t do for the smallest update, even if it’s just to give her an estimate of when she might be lucky enough to talk to someone face to face.

After what feels like forever, she hears the door open as heavy steps head away from her, which she can only assume is BSU heading down to the basement. 

Her heart thumps in anticipation and she doesn’t know anymore if it’s better or worse that they’re inside the house with her. She knows they’re doing their job, that they’re highly qualified and trained at what they do, that it means she’s one second closer to getting some type of answer, but the fear of something going wrong is far too strong to ignore that she’s just about holding her breath in suspense. 

She wants to scream.

It feels like torture. No, no—it is torture; the anticipation of everything going wrong in the blink of an eye. 

There’s an array of emotions that flood through her and she’s at battle with herself trying to ground all of it. Her chest weighs heavy with panic that she can’t quite get a good breath in and she doesn’t know if it’s the fear of what might happen that isn’t allowing her to breathe or the act of survival, the reminder of “if I don’t move, if I don’t breathe, then this thing will not go off.” 

She reaches for her side, willing herself to raise an arm that feels like lead as what she needs and what she can actually do don’t quite align. She needs to ground herself, desperately needs to find a way to ease those thoughts, except moving feels like a privilege she can’t afford and why it takes forever for her thumb to make contact onto the poly wool that clothes her body. 

She digs her hand onto her side trying to connect with her source of resilience as she fights to steady her breathing. If there’s nothing she can do but wait then she can at least try to center the mess that is currently her state of mind. 

It doesn’t work.  

She’s far too in her head, overstimulated by the chaos that’s unfolded before her. Her thoughts are scattered in so many different directions with the looming reminder of certain death hanging over her that what ends up taking over her focus is the regret of not saying goodbye. 

She’s not giving up, she won't give up. She’s not a quitter but her options feel so scarcely limited that all she can focus on is how she wishes she would have said something else to Celina and Noah ... just in case. 

Which feels stupid because she doesn’t even know what she would have said. It's not like that was the right time for a heart to heart, for some teary eyed reminder of how much she appreciates and loves both of them because every second mattered when it came to getting them safely out the door. Who knows if she’d still be standing here, if any of them would be, if she tried to throw in a quick goodbye? 

But what if that was the only chance she got? What if she should have taken an extra minute to tell them all of that? To have them give her loved ones a last message on her behalf? To ask them to look ove–

“Officer Chen.” 

She looks up to find Grey standing outside the doorway accompanied by two others; the lieutenant who pulled her off the case and a woman she recognizes in passing but has never actually talked to before. She lets out a small sigh in relief knowing that if the three are inside of the house standing before her, it must mean that there's no other rigged explosion, that it’s safe enough for them to step inside; but by the same logic, she knows that they must have something equally as bad to say because why else would the three of them then be here?

“Officer Chen, I’m Captain Fernandez from the BSU,” she greets her, “Officer Juarez and Detective Foster filled me in—you made the right call by having them step outside to call for help. Unfortunately, the rest of your intuition was right too.”

All she can do is nod as she takes this in.

“The good news—as good as it can be in this situation—is that we x-rayed the entire house, inside and out, and found no other devices.”

She holds her breath, waiting for the final piece of bad news judging from the somber expression on the older woman’s face.

“While this is the only explosive that the house was rigged with, you unfortunately stepped onto a sensor plate wired to a detonator triggered to go off at any sudden release of weight—you take the weight off, even the smallest shift too fast, and it's as if you pulled the trigger. My guys are working on figuring out how to disarm it but it’s crucial that you don’t move until we do, okay?”

Her lips purse together into a fine line as she answers, “Yes, m’am.” 

None of this is new information. It’s why she’s spent every tortuous second for who knows how long fearing that one wrong move and that’s it, life over. Still, it doesn't make it any easier to hear. At least before this was confirmed, she was still able to hold on to a semblance of misplaced hope. She could pretend to be none the wiser. Except now she has verbal confirmation from an expert, she's received the unfortunate reassurance that she wasn't actually far off with her initial speculation because she is very much standing on top of something that could easily kill her. 

Fuck. 

The confirmation moves throughout her body as it settles at her core and she feels like she might just be sick but can’t actually afford to empty the contents of her stomach. Not if she wants to keep on breathing. 

“Do we know if … how much it …” she starts to ask the question but struggles to actually vocalize what she wants to say.

Fernandez nods, saving her from having to finish. “Trace detection estimates it has enough kilograms to bring down this house and possibly cause some structural damage to the surrounding ones.”

“We’ve closed off the entire block as a precaution and have patrol evacuating those in the neighborhood just in case,” Grey adds.

“The good news is that as far as we can tell it's only pressure sensored. You give us enough time to figure out how to disarm it by not moving and we’ll get you out of here. Think you can do that?”

Lucy sucks in a breath, a hand instinctively reaching for her rib cage in search of the reminder of her strength. This time she’s met with a warmth of assurance as she feels it ground her just a bit, “Yes.”

“Great,” she offers a reassuring smile that Lucy doesn’t quite buy.

“We won’t stop until we get you out of here, okay?” Grey adds. “You’re not alone in this, we’re here and we’re not going anywhere.”Lucy nods, giving him a weak smile. “Are Celina and Noah, okay?”

“Yes,” Fernandez answers, this time actually smiling at her fondly, “you’ve got quite some loyal friends out there, they were ready to come back and wait with you. “Bomb buddy” is what I believe Officer Juarez called it.” 

She can’t help but chuckle softly at that, Celina would give a nickname to such a role. 

“However, helping evacuate the neighborhood was a better use of Officer Juarez’s skill,” Lieutenant Ozan jumps in. It’s the first time since he walked in that he’s directed a word at her and even then, he remains completely unfazed. His words much like his expression lack any type of emotion though in the limited interactions she had with him months ago, Lucy knows that’s on par with the man. “And Detective Foster is en route to a new location. The D.A.’s Office is now coordinating with the FBI and CBI.”

Lucy nods. She’s grateful that both of them are out of harm's way but that doesn’t mean there’s not a small part that wishes they were still around. 

A flicker of disappointment must reflect in her eyes because Captain Fernandez tries to offer her something to hold onto: a successful ending to this nightmare.

“You’ll see your friends soon,” she assures her and Lucy desperately wants to believe this.

“Thanks,” she answers softly.

“In the meantime, if you need anything, we’re a call away.”

Wait, what?

“But the frequency—” 

“Given the type of explosive and the kilograms of RDX it carries, it’s not enough that the frequency could trigger it to go off. However, potentially shifting the distribution of your weight because of your duty belt is another story—your radio is to stay on your person. Any and all communication will be strictly via phone. Are you able to reach it without any shift in movement or do you need us to leave you with one?”

This is good, what the captain is saying is a good thing. Yet it’s something that comes with some very strict guidelines, so it’s as much a lifeline as it is a warning to heed. 

She swallows before acknowledging what was just said. “I think so,” she answers, “should I—”

The woman nods before Lucy reaches into her pocket, cautiously wrapping her hand around the rectangular device and retrieving it with the focus as if she were trying to win the grand prize on a claw machine.

“Got it.”

“Okay. We’re right outside, Lucy,” she reminds her.

“Thanks.”

“You both go ahead, I need a moment with Officer Chen,” Grey adds as the other two turn to leave. Captain Fernandez shoots her a reassuring smile, making her wonder how many times she’s had this same conversation with someone standing in Lucy’s shoes while Lieutenant Ozan gives her the tiniest hint of a nod which she has no idea how to take.

Not that she gets the chance to try and decipher it because Grey’s suddenly a few steps closer, right at the threshold of the bedroom. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” she answers, the meaning of the word now lost. There’s not much else she can say because her only options are to remain on auto-pilot response or let harrowing truth consume her. 

“How are you actually doing?” he presses. 

Her reaction doesn’t faze him, he doesn’t even blink as he sees right through her. She’s not surprised but she had expected him to maybe amuse her long enough to go along with it and not try to get an honest response. 

“I’m—as well as I can be,” she answers, a little more honestly this time but still holding back.

He doesn’t answer, just narrows his gaze onto hers. There’s something about how he’s looking at her that makes her feel so exposed, as if he suddenly possessed the ability to read her thoughts which prompts her to keep going. 

“I’m scared,” she starts, somehow providing more truth than she cares to admit, “it feels like a bad nightmare that I can’t wake up from. I still—I don’t even know how it happened. One moment I’m looking under the bed and the next, I step on the only spot inside the house that has a bomb underneath it? I mean, what are the chances? I keep thinking about what it means, why it was placed here, and I know I likely saved Noah’s life but now …”

“You’re the one in danger,” he finishes for her.

“Yes,” she nods, “And I’m glad he’s okay, I am. I mean it feels selfish to even consider anything else but at the same time, I really don’t want to be the hero here. 

She takes a deep breath before continuing on the sigh, “I know there’s not much I can do except to try and stay positive but it feels like I’ve been standing here for hours and no one knows how long it’ll even take them to disarm the damn thing. I can’t—there’s only so long I’ll be able to keep standing here, lieutenant.” 

She expects some lie as to how everything will be okay or for him to find some wisdom to impart that’ll lift her spirits. Instead, he sighs as she watches how the dials seem to turn in his mind. She has no idea what the thought is that crosses through his head but it’s evident that whatever it is isn’t something he’s fully ready to come out and say. 

There’s some hidden irony in how she recognizes the look of concern that seems to be permanently etched onto his face because she pivots from anticipating that he’ll say something to comfort her to looking for something to ease him.

“But you called in the cavalry,” she reminds him, offering a small smile, “so one of them is bound to figure it out, right?”

“Right,” he repeats almost mindlessly.

He continues to stare as if there’s something he’s still trying to make sense of and she can’t quite take the silence it brings.

“How are you, sir?” 

It’s the only thing that comes to mind that might deflect the attention from her. 

“Me?” The question seems to throw him off just enough to pull his attention back to what she’s asking. 

“I’m, uh—” he trails off, “trying to make sure one of my best officer’s makes it out of here.”

She can’t help but smile at the compliment but doesn’t ignore how it doesn’t exactly answer what she just asked, “I appreciate that, lieutenant. But I asked how you’re doing, not what.”

“You’re not gonna let me out of answering that one so easily, are you?”

“You’re the one who decided to stick around,” she reminds him.

“Good point,” he laughs dryly before growing serious, taking a second before adding, “I’m worried. We’re not gonna stop until we get you out of here, Chen, but—”

“There are a lot of unknowns.”

“Yes.”

“I know you’ll get me out of here,” she reassures him and she’s trying really hard to believe it, under any other circumstance she might just have too. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime to help—anything that doesn’t require me moving off of this?”

“No,” he shakes his head with a pained expression, “but if there’s anyone you’d want to call.”

Silence pierces the room once again as the meaning of this settles inside of her. 

To say good-bye.

She knows he means it as a precaution because the reality of this situation is that they really don’t know what will happen. Best case scenario is that she calls her loved ones out of the blue to remind them how much she loves them; and worst case scenario is that they get to hear her voice one last time before finding out that she died. 

“Yeah,” she nods softly. 

There’s a few people that come to mind, none of whom are easy to say goodbye to perhaps because of how complicated some of those relationships are. Her mom and dad, who she hasn’t actually spoken to in over a year except for the the holiday and birthday cards she’s sent; Tamara, who she hasn’t been able to actually sit down and catch up with in months because they’re running off of opposite schedules; and Tim, who she has no idea where to even begin.

Three out of those four calls she knows she can maybe make. Perhaps by the time she finishes the third call, she’ll be able to call Tim?

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he says as he does just that, turning back toward the entrance of the house leaving her alone again.

It hits her a little bit harder as her legs ache underneath her, the responsibility she feels to stay put because of how much her life depends on it. It’s why it takes her painfully longer than it should to be able to unlock her phone, slowly pressing one button after another in order to place the outgoing call she’s not even sure how to make.

The line rings. Once, twice, every trill feeling heavier and heavier as she prays to actually reach voicemail. 

“Hey, it’s Tamara! Sorry I missed your call. You know what to do!” 

Beep. 

Lucy stays silent for a second, contemplating hanging up and not leaving her any type of message. 

For a moment, it seems less cruel, to potentially not leave Tamara something that may haunt her if she knows it’s some of Lucy’s last words. Except, it also feels selfish because she knows that Tamara would have liked to have said goodbye and while she didn't answer, leaving her a voicemail could be the closest thing she gets to that.

“Hey, Tamara,” she sighs, breaking the silence as she tries to keep her voice as even and steady as possible. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know we’re long overdue to get together and I’m starting to think you’re actually just avoiding me so you don’t have to eat any vegetables,” she chuckles lightly at her own joke, “anyway, I hope you’re doing okay and that classes aren’t kicking your butt too much. I just wanted to tell you that I’m so pro–”

There’s a sudden commotion outside that interrupts her before she’s able to finish her train of thought as she abruptly ends the call to pay attention to whatever it is that’s happening on the other side of the walls. A mix of different voices argue, angry and loud, as she’s able to make out a few words: “Lucy”, “alone”, “bomb”, “no '', “inside”. While some of the voices are familiar, the interaction is so quick that she’s not able to pick out who they belong to until someone new stands at the doorway.

“Chen.”

Chapter Text

Her heart drops to her stomach as Tim stands at the doorway, completely stunned while he takes her in. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he’s a figment of her imagination; her psyche looking for what, or rather, who provides her with the most comfort and safety to make this ordeal just a little more bearable. 

A soft smile draws onto his features, gentle and encouraging, the kind that would be so easy to jump into if it were actually real because she knows better. If the ruckus he made right before making his way inside didn’t give him away, the tempest that swirls behind his eyes as he puts on a brave front does. What he’s trying to convey and how he actually feels are two vastly different things and she spent years breaking down enough walls to understand both, she’s just never been at the receiving end of that hollow reassurance. 

She’s torn between fighting the ache of wanting to run into the protection that only his embrace can provide and screaming at him to turn around and leave because she can’t have him put himself in danger too. Her head is at odds with her heart, reason and logic argue with emotions and desire that she can’t find the right thing to say. Instead, she watches how he takes a few careful steps in, slowly crossing over the threshold, one step over another until the only thing that separates them is a mattress but could very well be the ocean from how far away he still feels.

“Lucy,” he tries again, her name a delicate whisper on his lips. 

She blinks, “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“This is exactly where I should be,” he counters.

Her jaw tenses as she frowns at him. “No,” she stresses, “you shouldn’t. It’s not safe.”

The mask falls for a moment as he frowns back at her, “I know.”

“So, then—” The question dies in her lungs because it’s redundant for her to ask why he just broke protocol to stand inside a house with an active explosive. He’s standing on the other side of the bed because her life is the one at stake. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she repeats instead.

“Neither should you,” he points out flatly, “it shouldn’t be you.”

She grows silent because what is she supposed to say to that? Selfishly, she wants to agree. She knows it’s not about actively wishing harm on someone else by wanting them to be in her place instead but rather it’s desperation of not wanting her life to be the one in danger. 

“You shouldn’t be alone right now,” he continues. 

“No,” she shakes her head, “I need to be. There’s no reason for anyone else to be put in danger if there’s no need for it.”

“But that is the reason, Lucy,” he explains, “you shouldn’t feel like you’re alone in this.”

“I’m not though,” she lies, “everyone outside is working on getting me out of here. They’re in this with me too.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not the same and you know it.”

It’s not. But it should be enough.

“Tim, please,” she pleads, “go back outside.” 

“Lucy.”

“Tim.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me here.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Mean it.” 

This completely stops her as she huffs in defeat knowing there’s no way she can actually convey that because the downside of being able to read him so well is that he can read her just as accurately which makes lying absolutely pointless. 

“As long as you don’t move, there’s no imminent danger,” he reminds her. 

Lucy snickers, knowing that’s such a half-ass excuse. He taught her to know better. And he seems to recognize it too right after he says it. So he amends his reasoning, “If the situation was reversed, you would have done the same.”

Now he has her because there’s no use in denying it, it’s irrefutable. Without a doubt, Lucy would not have hesitated to push her way inside, consequences be damned. Had he been the one whose life was in danger, rank or punishment wouldn’t have stopped her, it wouldn’t have mattered, she would have found a way to be with him.

She sighs, slightly annoyed at how right he is because not only is she unable to convey a reaction truthful enough to convince him that she doesn’t actually need him here; but she’s acting like a hypocrite for wanting to put him out of harm's way when she wouldn’t think twice about putting herself in danger if his life was at stake. 

“It’s settled then,” he answers when she doesn’t say anything, “I’m staying.” 

“Great, my bomb buddy,” she mutters with a twinge of sarcasm, still at war over the fact that she wants to let herself be enveloped by what his presence provides and the added layer of fear to an already terrifying situation because of what having him stand only a few feet away means. 

“Nope,” he objects, “not a bomb buddy. Anyone who gives themselves a nickname ends up in jail, you know this.”

This disdain he has at the nickname is actually enough to crack a smile on her lips because it’s the first moment of normalcy she’s felt since she stepped onto the sensor plate.

“But isn’t that what you are?” she challenges, “I’m stuck here and you’re waiting here with me.”

“Yes,” he nods, “but we’re not calling it that.”

“So then what do you want to call it?”

“Nothing.”

She narrows his gaze onto him, unamused by the lack of effort at humoring her.

“Look, Celina was right when she suggested it because you shouldn’t be alone, but that’s it.”

She rolls her eyes, “Mhmm.” 

His answer gives her a little more insight to the situation that took place outside. She’s yet to ask him about when he found out what had happened, what he’s supposed to be doing instead of being here with her, to bring up the fact that she knows he broke a direct order when he's such a stickler for the rules (despite already knowing his response).

She knows the idea was something he likely landed on the moment he learned about how she was in trouble. Celina’s suggestion of it was just another person reaching the same conclusion. Except, she likely said it out of empathy and concern for a friend while Tim thought and acted on it because it was the only answer to an impossible situation, to be the lifeline the other needed.

She stays in this thought for a moment, reflecting on how he’s always been that lifeline. She’s not even sure how or when it happened but somewhere along the way he became the person who best knew her, who knew what lay inside her heart and soul — the one who wouldn’t judge or reprimand, who provided unwavering love and support, the person who believed in her when she struggled to believe in herself. 

It was such an unfamiliar notion, to have this unconditional support and love, when she grew up with the exact opposite. She was brought up with the expectation to reach some impossible standards, never quite being good enough because there was always something higher to achieve despite having nothing more left inside to give. No matter how hard she tried, she never seemed to please them. And when she finally decided to do something for herself instead, to venture out and find something that brought her joy and fulfillment, she was met with shame. It wasn’t just that they didn’t approve, it was that it was embarrassing for them to even name. It’s what caused the final crack in their relationship that caused everything else to shatter. It’s the reason why they don’t talk—Oh God, and now? Now she has to find a way to say goodbye?

Tim’s voice pulls her out of an impending spiral as she looks at him with a puzzled gaze.

“What?”

“Talk to me, Lucy.”

“About?” There’s so much and so little to say. She still doesn’t know where to start because everything feels so jumbled together, too complicated and complex for her to make into words.

He raises his eyebrows at her as he shoots a deadpan expression at her, “Humor me.”

“I–I don’t–” she struggles.

“No,” he objects, “don’t do that. I know you’re in your head about this and you know that talking always helps. So, spill.”

Her lips pucker into a frown in protest hating how easily he’s able to call her out. There’s also a small part of her that wants to keep it all inside, and doesn't want to burden him with the mess inside her head despite knowing that it would actually help. It makes knowing where to start even harder.

“The first thing that pops out,” he encourages her as if he’s reading her mind, “what were you just thinking of?”

She grows silent yet again, debating whether to hold onto that particular train of thought before it all comes spiraling out.

“I need to call my mom and dad,” she blurts out, “I need to call my mom and dad—just in case—but I haven’t spoken to them in a year, I can’t even remember the last time I saw them—and it’s funny because I think I’m more scared of calling them and having them pick up than I am of this … thing going off and that’s so messed up, right? Because I should be more scared of death, and I am, but I also keep thinking about what if they pick up? What if I try to tell them how much I love them despite never being good enough for them and they remind me of how much of a disappointment I am? I don’t—I can’t have their last words to me be how much of a letdown I was. But then what if they don’t pick up and I still die? Will their speech at my memorial be how they lost their only daughter to a thankless job? Will they even show up? And it shouldn’t matter because this is what I’ve had to deal with my entire life but it still does. I just wish I could have been enough for them, that I could have proved them wrong and I know I did, I know I made a difference, even if I die today I still saved someone and that matters … except it won’t matter to them.”

She’s on the verge of tears that she adverts looking him in the eye and she’s almost sure by his lack of response that wasn’t what he was expecting her to admit either. Which only makes her regret confessing all of that to him but he whispers her name and she follows his voice. 

“If their reaction isn’t to tell you how much they love you or how proud they are of you, then they’ve never deserved to have a daughter like you and they’re another sad example of people who shouldn’t have been parents,” he tells her, “their love or support isn’t something you should have ever felt like you needed to earn.”

And that breaks the dam as the tears start to fall, crying for her past and for her future.

Nothing ever seemed to be enough for her mother and by that standard, nothing was ever good enough for her father either. It was a cycle that repeated itself for decades, from childhood to her teenage years well into adulthood. For most of her life it was something she couldn’t understand because how was it that even her biggest achievements came with judgment? Being their daughter was never reason enough for their affection or praise. 

Which despite everything still hurts especially as Tim reminds her of this because of how rare it was for her not to feel like she had to meet some expectation to feel like her parents cared for her.

Then there’s what she might not get to see which cuts even deeper.

She knows he’s speaking from experience because of what he shared once before, how he explained that some people weren’t meant to be parents by using his father as a prime example. It’s how she knows that it’s the reason why he’ll make such a great dad one day, because he’s everything his father wasn’t.

It feels like a lifetime ago that she said that much to him too, when their future was within her reach and she could already see the love and care he'd have for their kids. It felt so real back then like it was bound to happen at any day because that’s exactly where they were headed.

It’s a future she prays he still gets to see though the fact that she may not be there to witness it breaks her heart more than she cares to admit. Even now that they’ve been apart for almost as long as they were together, she held onto that future. One that lately seemed to be slowly coming back to her like a blurry image coming back into focus.

Except, it won’t be their children that he gives his unconditional everything to, it’ll just be his. 

“Lucy,” he repeats as she covers a pained sob with her mouth trying to keep herself from falling apart. 

So much for keeping it together for the sake of everyone else.

“Hey,” he calls her softly, walking around the bed to her as he reaches for her. She shakes her head, stopping him before he gets any closer. As much as she needs his comfort, it’s far too much of a risk for him to touch her knowing even the smallest shift could depress the plate.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeats, being anything but. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—” he apologizes.

“I know,” she sniffles, taking a few breaths in order to settle the tears. “I know and you didn’t, it’s just, this is so much. I’m trying so hard not to be scared but it feels impossible when I’m standing over a fucking bomb! More than anything I want to believe that it’ll be okay but I can’t even move because then—”

She doesn’t need to finish for him to know what she’s implying.

“Hey, no,” he whispers, “it’ll be okay. Lucy, look at me, it’ll be okay.”

And she does, not because he’s asking her to look at him but because his voice sounds so earnest that she almost believes it.

“You don’t know that,” she objects, the irony not lost on her as the realist tries to cheer up the optimist. 

“But I do,” he assures her.

“How?”

“Because I’m still here.”

She furrows her brows not quite following.

“Years ago, I got stuck in a room with a deadly virus. I was sure I was going to die, I mean, there was already one dead body there that pretty much confirmed it but there was this rookie, this aggravating, know-it-all rookie who against all odds believed that I was going to make it out alive. I kept trying to make peace with the fact that I was going to die and she didn’t let me. She kept insisting that I’d be okay and here I am.”

The nostalgia is enough to bring a sad smile to her face as she nods, remembering that day as if it was yesterday. 

They’d been studying for their rookie exam for weeks that she knew that she was ready, all she needed was to get through the first half of her shift and then she’d be able to stop stressing about it. Plans that went up in flames when the threat of a deadly virus running rampant through Los Angeles put a pause on what was scheduled. Death and destruction loomed over the city and that was likely only the beginning. Stopping an impending terrorist attack became their one and only priority as the rookie exam became an afterthought. Especially when their second call of the morning put them in the middle of it all when Tim trapped himself in a bedroom with the deadly virus and patient zero to keep her safe. 

The wait for that vaccine felt like a bad dream she couldn’t wake up from. Every minute passed felt like it increased the probability of him meeting an untimely fate. She felt helpless and desperate, not being able to do anything for him except hope for a positive outcome. She was stubborn in her optimism until he shared how he wouldn’t let the virus take him out like that. She cried for him that day, back when he was merely her training officer. It’d been only six months since they were paired together and yet it’d been enough for her to get to know him well enough to respect him, to recognize that underneath the hardass no-nonsense T.O. was a good, caring man. 

All she knew then was that he didn’t deserve such fate and that he’d made enough of an impact in her life as her training officer that his death would impact her.

But now? 

Now the roles are reversed, it’s Lucy whose life is in danger but he’s no longer just her superior, now he’s everything, and that changes everything.

“Sounds like a pretty smart rookie,” she finally responds.

“Oh, she was,” he nods, “easily the best I’ve ever trained”

“Easily the best, huh? Here I thought she only cracked the top five.”

“No, by far the best, I just couldn’t tell her that and let it get to her head.”

“Way to keep her humble,” she laughs. For a moment the small spark of banter between them is enough to distract her until she remembers why they’re having this conversation in the first place. “You’re not just saying that because of …”

It takes him a second before it clicks, “Oh. No, of course not. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

She knows he’s telling the truth. He might try to find different ways to humor her, he may even tell her a white lie or two given the circumstance, but when it comes to training rookie she knows that’s not something he messes around with. Her skill and ability back when she was one wouldn’t be something he’d exaggerate just to make her feel better.

“So I was really the best rookie you ever trained?” 

He nods, “You were.”

“Since when?”

“What?”

“Since when did you know I was the best you trained?” she asks, knowing the question is now or never. 

Had he reached this conclusion when he handed her her final evaluation on her last day as a rookie? Before he’d been assigned his next rookie after her? When he told her that she deserved to be recognized while dancing at Nyla’s wedding? Before any of that or maybe after all of it?

“I don’t think there was really just one moment,” he admits, “more like little things here and there when you’d say or do something that would impress me or throw me off.”

“Like?”

He groans, as she smirks back at him not ready to let him out of this so easily. Though it’s that expression that he seems to latch onto because he smiles back as he rolls his eyes at her.

“When you stole my money clip,” he answers, “that was the first time I knew you were different because no other rookie would have ever dared pull anything like that. Even when I said you were in so much trouble, you just laughed and reminded me to glove up.” 

She grins bashfully at him as she recalls the memory. It was the first time she ever pranked him. “And you deserved it too! I can’t believe you made me dig through Caligula’s toy chest!”

“It was a teaching moment.”

“A filthy, disgusting one!” 

“How else was I supposed to teach you the DEAR method?”

“By simply explaining it to me?!”

He shakes his head, “You learn best when you’re a little pissed off.”

She groans but can’t hide the laugh that bubbles at the edge of her lips. “You’re the worst!”

“It worked though, didn’t it? You learned something from it.”

“Yeah,” she answers sheepishly, “though, you did too.”

He ponders this for a moment. “Not to dish out what I couldn’t take? Yeah, you threw back quite a few of those at me.”

She smiles proudly at his acknowledgement of this. “I have gotten you pretty good, haven’t I?”

He rolls his eyes with no actual bite. “You’ve gotten me back okay.”

Her tongue clicks as she protests, “Okay? C’mon, you weren’t expecting at least half of those!”

“What? Are you trying to say you out-pranked me?”

“Trying?! I totally got you back so much better than you got me!”

“Not even,” he scoffs, “name one time.”

“Easy,” she smirks, “my last day as a rookie.’

He humphs, not as amused as she is by the memory.

“I believe you called me too sensitive?” she starts, “thought I lacked that killer instinct? That I couldn’t lie to someone’s face by making them think I was their best friend and then stab them in the back when they least expected it?”

“Okay but that wasn’t …” he sighs, “fine, you got me pretty good with that one.” 

“Pretty good? You were literally squirming out of your seat. You didn’t even know what to say!” she laughs.

“Because I’d never had a rookie confess their feelings for me!” 

“Fake feelings,” she reminds him, “I was proving a point.”

“And then you undermined it by feeling guilty.”

She huffs before a new memory pops into her head and she smirks back at him,  “I didn’t undermine myself when I handed you my evaluation of you during Plain Clothes Day, did I?”

“That was—okay, I deserved that one.”

“You spent the entire day trying to get in my head and under my skin.”

“Which I did,” he reminds her, “the point was for you to make decisions on your own and trust your gut but you spent the majority of the day second guessing yourself.”

“Until it mattered.”

“Until it mattered,” he repeats with a nod. 

“You had to write the entire thing again because of that. You were so annoyed about it too.”

“I wasn’t that upset over it,” he counters.

“What?!” she exclaims, “you literally said after you made me read it that you were pissed about having to write a new evaluation.

“I know what I said,” he laughs, “doesn’t mean I actually meant it.”

“So, what, then? You were secretly rooting for me despite the mind games?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs, “it was my job to rile you up, it’s the only way you’d be prepared for any situation once you were out on patrol by yourself.”

“So you really weren’t mad that you had to rewrite it?”

He pauses for a second as if he’s considering the question. “No,” he smiles, “if anything, I was relieved. As much shit as I was giving you that day, I didn’t actually want you to wash out. Even back then, as much as you annoyed me, I knew you had potential … well, up until you went and got yourself a conduct complaint.”

“He had it coming!” she protests.

“He did,” he agrees, “but it was also pretty reckless. I was trying to get inside your head to push you to trust your instinct and instead you lost focus.”

“Not my best moment.”

“No, but you did manage to trust yourself in the end.”

“I followed my gut instinct even when you thought I would only get myself further into trouble.”

“Exactly.” 

She can’t help but smile as she shakes her head, drifting back to the memory of another lifetime when she was so eager to prove herself. She knew she had what it took to be a good officer and by Tim’s account, so did he, he was just having her jump through hoops for her to prove it. 

“So why was your evaluation of me your bar tab?”

“Honestly? I was so pissed off at you for most of the day because you kept messing with me and I wanted to get back at you somehow. I needed more than one drink after that shift—we all did—and it felt relevant to make you pay for it since you were the source of my anger for most of the day.”

He blinks at her, studying her for a moment before breaking out into a hearty chuckle. “So you stuck me with your hundred dollar bar tab.”

“You deserved it,” she reminds him almost in a taunt, “I can’t believe you actually paid for it.” 

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“ … Not pay it?” she says as if it’s the obvious answer.

“Guess I was impressed.”

She arches a brow, “That I made you pay my bar tab?”

“That your evaluation of me was to stick me with your tab. It was a ballsy move. I should have made you clean the tank for a month.”

“And yet, you didn’t,” she smiles.

“I was being nice.”

“Nice?” she giggles, “I knew it! See, you’re such a softy!”

“Am not!” 

She tuts at him, shaking her head, “Nope. Even in my rookie year, you were already such a softy.”

He deadpans at her, “It was one time.”

“It was so not one time. Are you really saying you don’t remember all the different times you treated me differently while I was still a rookie?”

“Maybe,” he begrudgingly answers.

“What about the dirty needle? You were being so judgy about how excited I was for overtime to make enough money to get the air conditioning in my car to work again at the start of our shift and by the time we ended up in the hospital, you kept trying to distract me with it so I stopped spiraling over whether or not I was infected.”

“I would have done that for anyone,” he counters. 

“Gotten them to the hospital to get checked out? Sure. But you wouldn’t have been nice about it.”

“I would have! I’m not heartless, Lucy!”

“I never said you were!” she laughs, “but you were a hardass and when you saw the needle instead of yelling at me for not being careful about my surroundings when I should have known better, you kept me level headed and grounded.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Fine but when I thanked you for it, you acted like it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, like staying with me and making me feel safe was part of your job.”

“You’re one to speak!” he argues, “do you remember that fender bender? When you thought I was getting suspended with no pay, that I'd never make sergeant because of it, you went out of your way not only to clear my name but to make sure I still received the Light of the City Award!” 

“Because it wasn’t fair that you were getting reprimanded for something that wasn’t your fault!”

“Is that why you went off on Walter?” he quirks a brow. 

Lucy’s lips part just slightly in surprise, taken aback at the fact that he actually knows about that little interaction in the repair shop. 

“You heard about that?”

He shoots her a pointed look without a word.

“I may have gone off on him,” she answers sheepishly, “but only because he was already so dismissive and hadn’t even heard what happened! You’d been on the job for twelve years, you’d been wounded five times in the line of duty, the least he could have done was at least pretend to care!”

“You mean as much as you?” he smirks. 

There’s a devious hint in his eyes that she instantly recognizes, he doesn’t have to say much more for her to know exactly where he’s going with that thought. 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “don’t flatter yourself, not like that.”

“Mhmm,” he nods.

“What? No!” she laughs, “I cared about you in the normal ‘rookie cares about her training officer’ way!” 

He narrows his gaze at her thoroughly enjoying the moment as she groans. “Stop. I just heard it but I’m not lying! I didn’t!”

I didn’t have feelings for you … yet .

It’s such a strange thing to think about, even more to say especially when it’s Tim himself that she’s saying it to. 

Except it’s also quite amusing about it too. The way they naturally have fallen back into the banter that for so long was her comfort place. It’s been months since they’ve talked to each other like this, even as things have slowly started to mend between them, this is the first time since the break-up that they’ve been able to tease one another so openly and effortlessly.

… And all because she might die. 

The distraction could only go on for so long, it was a matter of time before something either of them said or did would remind her of just how much her morality is currently at play. Which feels just a little morbid, how they’re teasing each other (and okay, maybe flirting a little too) about what ended up being the building blocks to the foundation of their relationship, when feelings possibly started to change, all while tragedy simmers underneath them. 

He’s managed to make her smile, laugh even, all while there’s a very real chance that the day ends with tears of heartbreak. 

“Lucy?”

She blinks realizing how he lost her for a moment as she spiraled deep into her own thoughts. The frown that’s replaced the grin on her face is the only evidence he needs to know that they’ve reached the end of that distraction. 

“I need you to do something for me.”

The room grows still as he meets her gaze. The lighthearted air that filled the space only seconds ago now vanished, replaced with a feeling of uncertainty.

“Anything.”

“Not now … I’ll tell you when it’s time but I need you to promise me that you’ll actually do it because I can’t,” she pleads as she meets his gaze with a wide-eyed expression, “I really need you to do this, Tim. Please.”

Perhaps there’s something about the way she rephrased it that has him hesitating now. She can see how he wants to take that “anything”  back as if her asking him not to question what it is she needs from him is something he knows he’ll have trouble doing. 

Which, for the record, he is right about. 

When the time comes, she needs him to leave. To turn around and walk out the door without questioning or fighting back; to accept her fate just as she’ll have to accept it too if they don’t manage to disarm the explosive in time; to go on and live for the both of them because her time may have run out but it doesn't mean his has to too. 

“Please,” she begs.

He stares at her, long and hard as if trying to make out what it is she’ll ask him before she actually does. 

She’s asking this of him while praying it doesn’t actually come to it.

This is the one goodbye she doesn’t even know where to begin at because she was never meant to say goodbye to him. They’re supposed to find their way back to one another, every small dose has put them one step closer to getting back on the right path.

They were getting there, damn it! 

A path that’s been completely obliterated by the metaphorical manifestation of the actual bomb she’s standing over because that track is now gone, blown to pieces by the limbo she’s currently in. Every passing second seems to cement her fate a little more but the sinking feeling in her stomach reminds her that it’s not in the way she’s hoping for it to swing. 

“It won’t—” he protests.

“But if it does,” she cuts him off, “if it does, I need you to do this for me.”’

His jaw tightens and she watches how he struggles with finding a response until he nods instead.

Except it’s not enough, she needs to hear it.

“Promise me,” she whispers.

“Lucy.”

“Please.”

“I-I promise,” he answers reluctantly, as defeat is laced in every syllable of the word.

She nods softly, acknowledging his answer as she draws a shaky breath and closes her eyes. 

It can’t end like this. 

She didn’t cheat death once before just to have it lead her here, this can’t be it. Not when she survived being abducted, marked, and then buried alive with no promise of getting found in time. Her only sliver of hope then had been the ring she dropped in the middle of the desert, as she ferociously held onto the belief that he’d be the one to find her.

Except she’s not lost this time. 

There’s no trail to follow, no barrel to pull her from, no need to bring her back to life because she’s standing right in front of him, alive and well … for now.

Now, he can’t save her. Which, even if he could, she’s not sure she’d want him to if it meant putting his own life at risk. He’s already in danger enough just standing here with her because there’s only so long she’ll be able to keep holding her weight like this. She refuses to check how long it’s been but it’s at least been long enough that her body is starting to feel it. She feels a little achy, her legs clammy except there’s nothing she can do about it but tough it out.

“Come back to me,” he coaxes her softly.

Her eyes flutter open, back on him as he’s taken a few steps closer to her. She wants to remind him to step back but the notion’s tangled with the urge to wrap her arms around him that she’s not able to say anything instead. 

“You okay?”

Immediately upon asking that, he cringes looking more upset about it than Lucy as it manages to trigger a small chuckle. 

“That was a dumb question, I’m sorry.”

“No,” she smiles, shaking her head, “I needed that.”

He nods, a serious expression etched onto his features as he shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“Your turn,” she prods.

“What?”

“You asked me what was on my mind and I told you, now it’s your turn.” 

There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he shakes his head, “No, this isn’t about me. You’re the one-–” 

“Standing on top of a bomb asking to hear what’s on my friend’s mind.” 

They both grow quiet for a second and she’s not sure if it’s because of what she said or because of how she said it. 

The words feel strange as they echo in her mind, they don’t quite fit together and frankly, they’re not supposed to. This isn’t supposed to be a danger of the job that she should worry about but the irony is she’s faced it more than she’d like to admit. 

She’s a patrol officer not part of the bomb squad and yet something tells her that her count for encountering an active explosive is likely higher than average. 

Once as a rookie when she was paired with Nyla for the first time and they accidentally stumbled upon a bomber when issuing a warning over breaking municipal code. It was perhaps the closest situation she’s encountered to this one with the difference being that she was able to find a path out by following the shoe impressions marked on the floor; too bad there’s nothing to follow this time. 

As if once hadn’t been enough, it happened with Nolan, twice. Dumb luck saved them from the grenade going off when Nolan tackled the sniper. They were a little less lucky at the power station where they managed to rush out in time but not without a few cuts and bruises.

The third time happened in between the other two with Nolan, this time with Nolan and Harper. It was so fast that she didn’t have time to fully grasp the levity of the situation when a treasure hunter blew himself up in front of them by accident. She had nightmares about that for weeks. 

And the last time, brings her full circle to today with Tim. There’s an eerie sense of deja vu because things weren’t quite right back then either. He pulled her into safety behind the door of the shop and shielded her with his body. He was selfless in how quick he was to protect her and she knows that if he could do that again, he would. Except, he can't, not without getting them both killed in the process.

Chapter Text

“Tim,” she repeats, worry builds in her gaze as looks at her but stares past her. He's suddenly so pensive as if something she said triggered some conflicting thought as his chest rises, puffing up before he exhales with a deep sigh trying to find a way to vocalize whatever it is that plagues him. There’s a willingness in his eyes that she’s able to make out, how he does want to answer but can’t seem to; which honestly falls in trend with today’s question of not knowing how to answer a simple “how are you?” because it’s not like she’s able to be very forthcoming about things either.

“I—uh–umm—” he starts. He diverts his focus from her for a moment and she’s almost she he’s about to shut down as his head bows to the floor. It surprises her when he doesn’t despite not quite being able to look her back in the eye. “I was with Grey when I got the call.” 

Another beat of silence follows as that now hangs in the air. There’s something about it that’s almost telling of how that’s not the thought he was trying to get across but she’s desperate to get a better gauge on how he’s doing that she’ll take anything she can get from him at this point.

“We were discussing some scheduling conflicts for the next week, a few sergeants are going out on vacation and leave that we were working on figuring out what shifts we needed covered when Celina called. I–I didn’t hear it at first but I saw it in his face, that look of fear when he turned straight to me. I knew something bad had happened but I didn’t know what until he got off the phone.”

Lucy draws in a sharp inhale. 

“He said you were in trouble. That you—” he sighs, dragging his hands over his face as he tries to keep his emotions in check. The facade’s starting to crack, there’s so much he’s holding back because he’s trying to remain strong for her. “—that you thought you were standing on top of a bomb.” 

She catches how he winces slightly at the words, how it pains him to actually say it outloud as if that makes it much more real.  

“I thought I was going to lose it. I couldn’t think—I just, I needed to be here with you, to make sure you were okay,” he recounts, “I was ready to run out the door to get here but Grey, he stopped me—he said we needed to make calls, to get you help—the bomb squad, air ship, patrol.” 

He finally looks up at her through misty eyes and she has to remind herself that as much as she aches to comfort him, she can’t. She can only stand and watch, which somehow now feels like the most torturous part of the entire situation. 

“I had a job to do, I couldn’t be—Grey reminded me that the best and only way to help you was to get everyone who needed to be here, here.” 

She sucks in a breath of air, the desperation he’s describing is one she’s all too familiar with. Just a few months ago it was his life on the line, when he jumped into the back of a pickup to go after a subject and she followed, forced to helplessly watch him get stabbed over and over again. With every thrust of the knife, his life flash before her, and all she knew was that she couldn’t lose him. It’s why she didn’t think twice to jump from one moving vehicle into another because the chances of it going horribly wrong for her were high but it paled in comparison to the risk of losing him forever. 

“I wanted to get here sooner,” he laments as he carries misplaced guilt over when it was he finally made it to her side, which doesn’t surprise her in the least.

“The job came first," she whispers.

It doesn’t seem to be enough to alleviate him from that remorse as he shakes his head. “I know, I know. But … It was unbearable. Having to make all of those calls first without knowing how you were doing? There was no way of getting in touch with you, either. You made Celina and Noah leave you there, you were all alone.” 

“Radio frequencies can set off a bomb,” she reminds him with a wry smile as tears glisten in her eyes, “I didn’t forget that lesson.”

Tim looks surprised for a moment before he laughs softly, “The baby powder IED.”

Lucy nods. 

“I wasn’t ever alone,” she explains, “not really. As soon as I realized what I was standing over, all I could hear was your voice in my head. Everything you taught me about what to do in this situation, it all came flooding back. You’d been such a hardass about everything that day, so hellbent on how I needed to be vigilant and up my ass about looking at everything through “Cop Eyes”. I was already so pissed at you for making me change back into long sleeves and when you threatened me with the duty hat, I knew I had to find it.”

She laughs, remembering how absolutely stressed he had her that day, how it’s nothing compared to today. 

Oh, how she wishes it was a mock IED they were dealing with again.

“You were so proud of yourself when you found it in time.”

“Duh,” she rolls her eyes at him, “but then you pretended you couldn’t hear me and made me call it in.”

“And that set it off,” he smiles sadly. 

“I’d been angry with you before but I don’t think I’d ever been that mad at you,” she confesses, “I spent the entire day feeling like I knew nothing because everything I did or said was wrong. It felt like such a pointless lesson at the time that all I could think about after getting covered in the talc was how I was going to get you back—I vowed revenge that day, Tim.” 

It’s enough to make both of them chuckle.

“But then today,” she starts as both their expressions fall flat, “with every odd stacked against us, I knew that the bigger risk was calling for help with all of us inside because we’d already walked through most of the house. If there had been another bomb, it would have been triggered or even set off by then—but the radio frequency? That felt like too much of a gamble, so I figured our best chance of survival was to get Celina and Noah out of the house.”

“You made the right call,” he assures her despite the hint of discontent. 

There’s more to it, she knows he’s holding back she just doesn’t know from what. A gut feeling that’s reinforced by how he suddenly looks away from her which only makes her watch him that much more intently as she tries to figure out what exactly it is that’s keeping him from looking her in the eye.

Silence seems to be the third wheel that keeps them company as neither says anything for a moment. She doesn’t prod, not yet at least, as she hopes that he’ll find a way to say whatever he’s keeping in before it’s too late. 

“On the drive over he asked me if I was good to work the case,” he finally admits. Grey.

“He said I needed to treat this like any other case, to treat you like any other officer,” he sighs, “I told him I was solid.” 

Tim doesn’t need to say much of anything else for her to know, they’ve established long ago that when it comes to her, it’s almost impossible for him to be impartial. 

“I was sure I could do it. I was assigned to overlook patrol—it was a compromise. I got to stay nearby but still wasn’t directly involved so it’d be easier to remain impartial. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted but it was better than being kicked off the case. Except, Celina kept insisting that you shouldn’t be alone and when he came back out after Ozan and Fernandez, the look on Grey’s face—Lucy—I—” he chokes, “I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t. Not when I knew you were in here all alone. I needed to see you, to make sure you were okay.” 

Now it’s Lucy who adverts her gaze as she swallows the prickly lump in her throat, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to stop the tears from rolling down. She nods softly, acknowledging how she just took all of that in but unable to say anything more. She refuses to cry but hearing the desperation in his voice makes that almost impossible. 

Her focus latches onto the meaning behind his action, that sense of urgency he felt to be beside her, how all of that weighed heavier than the obligations of his job, the duty he had to follow command. 

She doesn’t need an explanation to this, not when it’s such a prime example of how “some things matter more”. If there’s anyone who will follow the letter of the law, it’s Tim. It’s infused in his DNA, part of who he is because of what he’s lived. Except, he’s also the most contradictory person she knows because he’ll be the first to break a rule if he has a damn good reason for it and Lucy knows she’s exactly that caveat … except, she doesn’t feel the same way. 

“So you went against a direct order.”

“I had to.” 

“You had to?” she repeats almost incredulously, tone suddenly laced with anger as she looks back at him. “No, you didn’t!”

He looks at her in complete surprise as if her words don’t quite make sense, “Yes, I did!” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

She scoffs at his persistence as that spark of ire suddenly turns into a fiery blaze. “No, Tim. You didn’t! I never asked you to come running in here for me!” 

He flinches but it doesn’t settle the agitation she’s suddenly enveloped by.

There’s something about the way they’ve ended up here that’s nagging at her, as if it’s poking the sleeping bear, threatening to unleash something that’s remained dormant so far. It’s not that any of his actions surprise her, that’s not the problem, not when she knows she would have (and to an extent has) done the same. It has more to do with the multiple consequences he now faces over a split second decision because if putting his life in danger wasn’t risk enough, once he makes it out of here (because she will, she’ll see to it that he does), he’ll be facing disciplinary consequences. 

Oh.

It clicks like a freight train hitting her at full speed as a rush of deja vu washes through her. It doesn’t feel like such a hasty emotion, not when despite it being a completely different situation is still so eerily familiar because here they are, yet again, with Tim getting a say in the matter while she has none. 

Without giving her the chance to object before he even did it, he decided what was best for her when he pushed his way inside despite knowing better with no regard to the risk he was putting himself in or caring for the fallout of his actions. And while he wasn’t necessarily wrong, what bothers her is the lack of agency she has here too. He can leave, he has the ability to turn around and walk out the door, which unlike the last time he left her standing all alone, she actually wants him to do exactly that.

Which makes everything so frustratingly ironic because when he should have stayed, he walked away without looking back; and now that she needs him to go, Lucy knows it’ll be next to impossible to have him walk out that door no matter how much she begs and pleads.

It’s enough to make her laugh, bitter and dry, as she glares at him.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she clips back.

“Lucy.” 

“No.”

“Lucy.” 

She shakes her head, the last thing either of them need is to get into it. 

If this is really it for her, the last thing she wants is to waste what little time she has left fighting with him; much less for his last memory of her to be of them arguing. Except all of this is more than she can handle; she has no idea what she’s supposed to feel anymore because every emotion seems more powerful than the next, all heightened by the adrenaline that pumps through her body as she’s helpless to the emotional rollercoaster she can’t seem to get off of. 

It’s too much. Too much to hold in, too much to ignore as it all splinters into different directions until it ultimately shatters causing all of it to come pouring out.

“You left me, Tim! I trusted you when you said it was worth the risk … and—and you walked away!” By the time the last syllable leaves her lips the exclamation turns into a faint whisper. They’re words she’s been holding on for months now since the day he walked away, since they passed each other at the station and he tried to pretend like nothing had changed. She deserved that much yet it was met with an apology, he couldn’t even give her that.

So it became a flimsy patched up wound because part of picking up the pieces of her broken heart meant coming to terms with never getting an answer which ultimately turned into healing despite never addressing the root cause of her pain. Something she thought she had been making progress on because things with Tim were better by the day; and yet, as they stand here just a few feet away from one another, Lucy knows it was nothing more than an illusion, a lie she sold herself on to keep herself afloat. 

His shoulders sag, head falls, looking so completely broken just like he did that night in the parking lot. Lucy knows that what she’ll find once he glances up is a pained and tormented expression. It’s enough for her to momentarily fear that all the progress they’ve made so far just slipped away because she shattered the crystal ball they’ve been living in these past few months. All she can do is hold her breath in fear because there’s too much on the line to take any of it back but she can’t help regret how her words likely just triggered a different type of bomb.

“I’m sorry.”

The exact two words that broke her world when she tried to make sense of what he was saying as her worst fear became reality. It’s so soft that for a second she wonders if her mind just filled in the silence with something but when he looks up and says it again, she knows she didn’t imagine it.

There’s so much that lies behind those blue eyes she once would so happily get lost in, taken by a whirlwind of different feelings that leave him looking as lost as ever.

It’s yet again another moment where neither needs to say anything for so much to be said. Not directly about what she just expressed but in getting to a place where he can answer because she sees that struggle, how words now feel impossible to find. She wants to give him time, to allow the space for him to find what he’s in search for except she can’t keep holding onto the two other words. Not when they’re attached to one of the worst night’s of her life.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he finally admits leaving her with more words to grapple with because this isn’t anything new. Despite failing to understand why he did what he did, she ultimately was able to at least make sense of that; not that it made her feel any better. 

She says nothing as she gives him the space to continue. 

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that I did,” he adds, “I thought I hit rock bottom—I didn’t know who I was anymore or where I was headed and I was so afraid to take you down with me—and I-I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you. You were the one good thing in my life that the fear of something bad happening to you because of me, I didn’t know how I’d be able to live with myself. I had just told you that I didn’t know who I was anymore and you—”

Her breath hitches in her chest already bracing herself for the words that will likely follow, thankfully that sentence never does.

“When you asked me if—I don’t know, Lucy,” he shakes his head, “it was like something clicked when you asked that because I realized that I wasn’t that same person. I didn’t know who I was or what I could offer you anymore, all I could think about was how I let you down and how I put you in danger when all I wanted to do was to protect you. I felt like I had to protect you from myself so it was safer to let you go. I thought that even if I hurt you, at least I stopped harm from coming to you.” 

He draws a shaky sigh, “So I let you go. And it’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

He’s the one who now breaks as the walls crumble and everything he was desperately trying to keep in tumbles over. Tears stain his cheeks as she watches how he fights to hold them back but has very little success. It matches her own battle as she sobs silently with him hearing him finally say what she desperately tried to comprehend months ago.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have walked away,” he shakes his head, “I wasn’t trying to decide for you—that was never my intention but not knowing who I was anymore terrified me. You are—You’re amazing, Lucy. You are the best person that I know, I’m a better man because of you, but that night? I wasn’t that person. I wasn’t the man who told you that it was worth the risk, so how was I supposed to go on and pretend like nothing had changed? You deserve everything and I couldn’t give you any of that. That’s why I said you deserved better. And I’m not—I’m not trying to make an excuse, nothing I can say or do will ever make up for what I did but it doesn’t mean I won’t try or that I’ll ever stop working on being that person who was once worth the effort. From the moment you walked into my life you challenged me to be better, you still do, and I want to be who you believe I can be. I want to be someone you deserve and—Lucy, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get there but I know now that that’s not for me to decide either. That’s for you to do, it should have always been your decision and I should have never taken that away from you.”

A small gasp falls from her lips as it all pieces together. A sound that’s followed by absolutely nothing as she takes in this admission, now Tim being the one who gives her the time to process. Everything seems to fade away, falling somewhere into the background until it’s just the two of them that remain. He stands before her, heart in hand and soul exposed, letting her take all of it in as she begins to fill in some of the blanks, finally getting answers to actually heal wounds she fooled herself otherwise about.

It doesn’t fix anything but it’s a start. At least she hopes it will be.

There’s so much she has to say, needs to say, that it complicates knowing where to even start. She feels almost dizzy from how overwhelming this all is and if not for both their lives depending on her staying put, Lucy might just have let her knees buckle underneath her.

It’s yet another thing on the list of unexpected surprises she never thought she’d have to deal with today. Not that she regrets in the least finally having addressed the elephant in the room but doing so while in the midst of such agonizing limbo doesn’t make it any easier to take in. 

“Therapy’s worked wonders,” he quips, after a moment offering something to break the tension as he shoots her a small smile, dipping his toes to test the waters. He gives her something that’s still relevant to what he just shared, not brushing it under the rug, but light enough to push them forward instead of maintaining them in this space where neither speaks.

“You kept going.”

He nods, “Someone pretty wise once reminded me how one bad experience shouldn’t tar the whole profession. And she was right.”

“I’m glad it’s helped,” she smiles softly.

It’s not new information, nothing about the admission is actually surprising because despite never talking about it again since he brought the topic up that day in the shop, she knows him well enough to pick up on different patterns. For better or worse, he’s always the first person she’s drawn to in a room that she pretty quickly knew when he wasn’t there.

The first time she noticed, she figured he might have called out sick but then he ended up being the one to show up when she called for a supervisor on scene. When it happened again, she thought back to the first time, wondering if he’d show up later which he did just as they were heading out. By the fifth time, she picked up on the cadence: bi-weekly on Thursday’s likely an hour-long session that put him at the station just anywhere from shortly after roll call ended to when right after they all hit the streets.  

From the moment she figured it out, she never once brought it up. If he wanted to share anything, she’d be there to listen, but she wouldn’t dare bring it up. Instead she watched from the sidelines, feeling so incredibly proud of him because she knew it wasn’t easy for him and despite that, he didn’t quit. 

The fact that he was able to admit all of that is proof that whatever he’s been doing in therapy is working. Despite how she knows him so well, how she’s seen him at his most vulnerable, there was always something that he held back on. She knew there was that one last wall she couldn’t quite penetrate despite how Tim himself wasn’t even able to see it. 

Not until right now.

“Tim—” she starts, ready to bare a piece of her soul as his radio crackles and a new voice joins them.

“Bradford. Chen.” 

Their gazes tear from each other to his duty belt following Grey’s voice that calls for them.

He unclips the radio to answer back, “Yes, sir?”

“Just wanted to give you two an update. Bomb squad is still trying to get a clear angle, they’re working from the crawlspace which is making things more difficult to fully be able to get an image.”

Not great news.

“How long will it take?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Fernandez chimes in, “it’s hard to say without a clear image since we don’t know the full extent of what we’re dealing with. Maybe another half hour?”

Tim sighs.

It’s been like twelve hours. 

She doesn’t actually say this and it’s nowhere near having been that long but it feels like it has considering, well, everything. 

“We’ll let you know as soon as we’re able to,” Grey promises.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, unable to hide how defeated she feels.

“We will get you out of here,” Fernandez adds.  

She nods this time as Tim keeps his gaze fixed on her.

“There’s something else.” 

Her stomach does a somersault anticipating nothing good from the three words Grey just spoke.

“Neiman’s in the wind.” 

She watches Tim clench his jaw at the news, his grasp onto the radio becoming a little tighter as his knuckles grow pale. 

“We sent a team for him the moment Juarez made the call but by the time the detective’s got to his place, he was gone. Lopez and Harper are tracking down some leads to narrow down where it may be he’s hiding. We have a few of his known associates in custody. We won’t stop until one of them turns on Neiman.”

That’s … something.

“One more thing,” it’s Ozan this time who jumps in, “one of the suspects we arrested had a remote with him. We believe he was the one Neiman hired to plant the bombs.” 

She stares at Tim wide-eyed unsure of what to make of this information.

“We’re working on getting the combination,” Grey adds hesitantly and she’s able to pick up on how that maybe wasn't something he was willing to share just yet, “but it’s tamper proof, we only have one shot with it …”

Or else.

Lucy gulps, it's something that came with a sliver of hope that's just as quickly pulled from under her.

There’s a beat of silence between them all until Grey speaks again, “How’s Lucy?”

She takes a deep breath before answering the call, shooting Tim a nod for him to press the PTT button as he angles it her way. “I’m okay, sir. As good as I can be.”

She doesn’t elaborate, she doesn’t know how.

She can only hope that what she provided when it was just the two of them was enough of the truth for him to accept her answer now. It’s not like she’s lying either, all things considered she is fine, she’s still standing. Because there’s no use in sharing how scared and angry she is by what’s happening; how she continues to silently pray to whatever higher power might listen and let her walk out of this one; the dread that threatens to consume her of reaching a point where she needs Tim to leave; the heartbreak she feels at the thought of her loved ones mourning her; or telling anyone about the guilt that comes with it because as much as she’d love to stay, fate’s a finicky bitch. 

“Do you need anything?”

She can’t help but laugh and it seems to make him change how he asks what he wants to know.

“What can we do that may help?”

“Nothing you’re not already doing,” she answers back. 

He doesn’t answer, none of them do for a moment that she wonders if something suddenly happened that pulled their attention away from the conversation.  

“Okay. I’ll radio in with any updates as soon as we have any,” he finally comes through, “and Bradford? You and I will be having a serious talk once this is all over.” 

“Looking forward to it, sir.”

Lucy shoots him an inquisitive look, brows furrowed as a smirk tugs on the edge of her lips. 

“As long as you make it out of here okay, I don’t care what the consequences are that I pushed my way inside.” 

She puckers her lips into a fine line as she answers with a nod. 

They stay like that for a moment likely lost in their own thoughts as Lucy begins to pull away in her own spiral.

“They’ll figure it out one way or another,” he assures her for the umpteenth time as he brings her focus back to him. It’s enough for her to question when he turned into an optimist. 

It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate it because she does but there’s something about how they’re trying to keep promises they have no control over that don't sit right with her. She wants to believe them, any other day she would have too, she’d be right beside them in this unwavering belief of how they’d end with a positive outcome. It has nothing to do with the fact that she thinks they’re trying to protect her from the truth either, Lucy knows they believe what they’re saying just as much.

But they’re not the ones standing on top of a bomb, she is. She’s the one who gets to feel every achy muscle as her body starts to tire out and it’s hard to focus on anything else when all she wants to do is sit or stretch or be anywhere but trapped in the finite space she’s currently confined to. 

“I know,” she repeats with her voice lacking conviction. 

“No, no,” Tim takes a few cautious steps closer to her, almost reaching out before pulling his hand back, “Lucy, you’ve beat the odds before. You’ll do it again.”

“I’m tired, Tim,” she admits. The week itself had been taxing enough without adding all of this into the mix.

“I know, I know,” he validates her exhaustion, “but just a little longer, okay?”

He looks at her through pleading eyes, almost begging at her to keep holding on as all she can do is begrudgingly agree.

Everything else is out of her hands.