Work Text:
December 24th, 6:00pm
For some reason that he’s still not sure he comprehends, Tim had agreed to play the Mid-Wilshire Secret Santa this year.
Maybe it was because his therapist had encouraged him to participate in some holiday fun, let himself enjoy something jolly (her word. Jolly. He’d considered finding a new therapist for a moment after that).
Maybe it was because he’d had the smallest hope that it would connect him and Lucy in some miniscule way, engage them both in the same holiday activity and allow them to celebrate this holiday together - that until a while ago they most certainly had been planning to spend together, and now they most certainly were not planning to spend together.
Most likely it was because Lucy had asked him with that small, playful smile if he was going to join in, and he’d wanted to show her he was capable of growing, of changing. Wanted to make her happy that he was playing. Wanted to make her smile.
Worse comes to worst he’d have to buy Smitty some new wool socks.
But then in some stroke of fate – or, karma, probably – he pulled Lucy’s name and it left him with a huge sense of panic and dread, not knowing what to do: how simple or how complex the gift should be. Should it have meaning, something that shows he knows her? Should it just be something basic she can enjoy without fear of triggering painful memories or forcing her to contemplate their relationship as it stands, like he would’ve gifted any other person? Should it be a gesture, should he finally take the step he’s been wanting to take and try and see if there’s a future for them?
He contemplates it for a long time. He’s been discussing Lucy a lot with his therapist lately. He knows breaking up with her was not the solution he had thought it would be in that moment, now. He knows if he could have it his way, they would try again. He understands himself better and sees himself better and he’s ready to talk to her, to be open, to share – about his past, about anything from here on out. He knows it won’t be that easy, he’ll stumble sometimes, but he knows Lucy would support him through it. Or at least, she would have – before – if he’d had the wherewithal to open up to her, then. Now, he’s not sure what she wants, if she could ever feel the same for him again after he’d blindsided her and broken years of shared trust. His therapist had told him the only way to know is to ask, has encouraged him to be direct rather than ambiguous (like, for example, promising to repay kindness for the rest of his life). She’s encouraged him that maybe all this overthinking means that he’s ready to tell her he wants to try again, ready to talk about the hard things with her, now.
He knows what Lucy wants from him.
Truth. Explanation. A real, adult conversation. That’s all she’s wanted since day one after the breakup.
Instead of coming up with a decision on which path to take for her gift, for weeks Tim does nothing except talk to his therapist about it and the game’s almost over now and he knows she is going to kill him if he leaves her hanging. The fallout over this might be worse than the breakup. He has to make his decision.
Then he comes to find out that other Secret Santas are showering their recipients with small little gifts all week, leading up until they reveal themselves. They’re leaving candy bars and snacks, lip balm and scented candles, cozy socks and gift cards for a cup of coffee. And so far, Lucy’s gotten nothing because this was nowhere in the rules. (Then again, he should know better than to expect anything run by Smitty of all people to be clear and concise.)
Tim already knows he’s messing everything up.
The ex-boyfriend who broke her heart and then messes up Secret Santa for her on Christmas. It sounds worse than a plot of one of those Lifetime movies that Lucy loves so much.
He signs up to work Christmas Eve – the overnight shift that no one wants -- because he has no plans for the holiday this year. Genny is taking the boys to visit their dad. Angela has invited him over for the holiday, but he doesn’t want to be the sad, lame uncle crashing the family festivities nor does he find the idea of attending Patrice’s Christmas Eve party enticing at all.
He’s worked many holidays, after all. It’s always been a good distraction from whoever he doesn’t have to celebrate with (first it was his dad he was avoiding, then it was Isabel who was usually gone, and now – it’s Lucy), and the overtime pay is nothing to scoff at either.
In fact, this was the first holiday in a long while that he’d actually thought, for a minute there, that he’d be excited to celebrate.
Tim Bradford always finds a way to mess those plans up.
(He knows his therapist would admonish him for this line of thinking, but he can’t help it. He supposes the fact that he’s even noticed it’s a negative thought is progress.)
The Secret Santa reveal deadline is December 26, giving everyone time to gift despite the various holiday shifts their coworkers may or may not be working. Tim knows he still has time to make his final decision – and he has a few gifts already chosen, but he can’t bring himself to commit to the one he’ll give her. But when he walks into the station that night, he’s pretty sure everyone has already wrapped it up when he sees Jan and Smitty hug it out over their exchange.
He does have gifts for Lucy, now – he has a basic gift card to her favorite restaurant in case he wants to play it safe. He has bracelet with a charm that has Kojo’s pawprint on it (after all the effort it took to stamp his pawprint for her birthday card, he figured he may as well get plenty of use out of it) if he wants to do something with a little more meaning.
He knows what he really wants to do, which is why he’s probably really hesitated this long, actually.
But he’s not sure what the move is, if he wants to gift her some kind of gesture. Does he offer her his journal from therapy? Does he invite her to the family session at his veteran’s group? Does he ask her on a third first date?
He just can’t decide which route to take. If he can decide by the end of this shift, he can sneak the gift of his choosing into her locker for her to find the day after Christmas. He knows she’s on the schedule for December 26th.
Hopefully he’s assigned to ride solo – or with an officer who will keep to themselves – so that he can contemplate during the lulls of his shift.
Tim ignores the dread in the pit of his stomach and instead greets the on-call night watch commander, who welcomes him gratefully and thanks him for working and tells him he’s going to be assigned with another patrol officer who’s not usually on night shift and nods his head towards the officer entering the roll call room.
Tim almost swears it could be something straight out of a movie – a rom com, if he was at all optimistic about how they would eventually end up – as he looks over and locks eyes with Lucy at the same moment that she locks eyes with him.
“Sergeant Bradford, Officer Chen – you’ll ride together tonight. I know you work together often on the day shift so I figured it was a no brainer.”
(Surely the night watch commander must know more about their entire line of shared history than that.)
“What are you doing here?” are the first words that leave Tim’s mouth after the watch commander walks away and he realizes he’s already fucking everything up.
Lucy gives him a frown and a little glare. “I work here just as much as you do.”
“I know, I mean,” he rubs his hand over his face, willing this whole encounter to start over again, better. “You never volunteer to work holidays.”
She lets out a little bitter laugh and gives him a knowing look. “This year, I do.” She looks over her shoulder, as if she’s wishing for any other familiar face to appear, and, not for the millionth time Tim wonders how they got here. (Oh yeah. His bright idea.) “You don’t know everything about me,” she adds under her breath as she heads to take a seat for roll call.
The briefing is quick and he can feel Lucy looking at him the whole time. The one time he chances a glance, he can see the look of irritation on her face. He’s not sure why she’s so upset with him tonight – things have gotten so much better between them, lately. They’re able to work together well, they talk, they’re friendly. But something about tonight – maybe the unexpectedness of it, or him being there interfering with her ability to escape the holiday and her memories of him and what should have been – has her pissed off at him again.
He knows he has to take her wrath. It’s all his fault she’s like this, anyway.
“I can ask him to give me another partner if-“ he starts when she approaches him after roll call and he stops, because he knows that’s the wrong thing to say by the annoyed look on her face.
“We work together every day. It’s fine. We’re fine,” she snaps as she heads off to get the war bags before he can even offer to get them first, having hesitated a second too long in wondering if the gesture would just anger her more.
“Clearly,” he mutters, bewildered.
Lucy’s having a horrible Christmas Eve.
She’s having a horrible year, to be honest. Aaron and Celina being attacked and the station targeted, the detective’s exam, the Budny shooting, Tim. Especially Tim. The one thing that held her up through all the other crap and then came crashing down at the last second, too. Nothing has gone in her favor lately, and now she has to spend Christmas Eve face to face with the biggest ghost of her past.
Months ago, her holiday plans would not have looked anything like this. She would’ve planned to be with Tim and Kojo, probably Tamara. She would’ve been looking forward to the days off, the time to just rest and relax with the people she cares about most. Now days off are just days to focus on all the noise around her, days for her to spiral and struggle with her thoughts.
Her family was having a Christmas Eve gathering they invited her to, but she’d turned them down. She knew if she spent a holiday with her family, it would only drive home the fact that she wasn’t with who she had planned to be with for Christmas. So, she signed up to work Christmas Eve, hoping maybe she can forget the holiday is even happening while she bides her time on shift. It’s perfect, because “having to work” is a great way to turn down her parents’ invite (even though she knows it’s only going to feed into how much her parents hate her job) and distract her from the fact it’s Christmas and she and Tim are broken up.
Then she shows up to work and of course, of course, Tim is working, too.
Honestly, she should have known he would be, and she’s mostly mad at herself for never considering this very likely possibility.
They load up the shop and pull out, and it’s awkwardly silent for a few minutes. She knows that her mood shift tonight has Tim walking on eggshells. She laughs to herself under her breath, because the Tim she first met never would’ve catered to her pissed off mood, never would have backed down from anything to please her: but here they are.
She tests the waters by turning the volume up on the radio. She sees his lip twitch and his fingers flex against the steering wheel, but he doesn’t dare say anything. She twists the dial until she finds the station with non-stop Christmas music and he stares ahead, focused on the road. She raises the volume a few notches and she sees him give her a tiny glance out of the side of his eye, but he remains dedicated to letting her do what she wants.
She doesn’t know if she appreciates it or hates it.
Even when they were together, he would’ve given her a hard time before letting her have what she wanted. Now, so much has happened that he lets her do as she pleases without a fight, and it’s all a reminder that he’s trying to make up for the pain he’s caused her.
The thing that nags at her is she’s still not sure what he’s going for, here. Sure, he’s trying to be kind to her. But what is his intention? Is it mostly about assuaging his own guilt for breaking up with her? Is he trying to repair their friendship, so they still have something left? Or is he working on repairing something more?
Mariah Carey starts playing on the radio and she knows he hates this song, and she really wishes he would just make a comment, snark about it, like he used to.
But nothing is like it used to be.
December 24th, 8:00pm
They spend the first few hours of their shift in not-completely-awkward and not-completely-silent silence.
It’s not the companionable silence they’re used to, either, the companionable silence that had formed by the time she was his aide – when they knew each other well, were friends, could read each other, when she was no longer worried about him evaluating her, and they could just sit together in peace.
The calls start coming in right away – they respond to a petty theft at a store (a teenager, stealing lip gloss), then to a woman kicking and banging on the door of a closed bookstore (she needed a last-minute gift for her nephew), then to a small barfight - so it’s not like they have much time to talk, anyway.
They take several trips back to Mid-Wilshire to book suspects, which leaves them with time for distraction away from the shop.
Around 8:00pm, it quiets down a bit – the majority of the city settled in for Christmas Eve, now, as they return to patrol.
The palm trees are lined with strings of white lights as they drive down the street and Lucy wonders how long after the holiday the city will take them down, returning her back to her normal day to day and out of his holiday gloom.
She also notices that the white lights seem to look blurry, like how everything looks when you cry, and she wonders why that’s her first thought.
Maybe she’s done a lot of crying this year.
Tim, meanwhile, seems to get brave in the lull. “Is everything okay?”
She chances a glance at him, then looks away because she feels something too strong in watching his familiar profile in the driver’s seat of a shop. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine,” Tim adds, and she sighs at his insistence to push, which she notices is a departure from their usual roles. “You’re never this quiet.”
“I can be quiet sometimes,” she snaps, harsher than she’d intended. She continues in a more even tone. “Especially when it’s been a crappy year and this holiday is not at all how I intended it because I had someone break my heart and now, I’m stuck in a shop with him for twelve hours on Christmas Eve when I was trying to forget about all of it.”
Tim gulps, surprised at her emotional burble. “I thought we were doing better,” he says softly.
“We…” she trails off with a sigh. “Can I just be sad? And mad?” she asks through teary eyes. “It’s Christmas and I’m alone.”
His heart breaks. “Lucy…”
“It’s not the way I thought it would be.”
“Me either,” he replies gently and she shakes her head, a clear sign she doesn’t want to hear anything more.
“I’ll be fine just… give me a minute.”
Tim nods, and Lucy looks down at her lap, gathering herself while he drives until she realizes the shop has stopped and she looks up to see where they are.
“Maybe you want to grab some coffee,” Tim says softly and she realizes he’s pulled up to the donut shop that’s open 24/7, even on Christmas Eve, so that she can have a moment away from him. “It’ll be a long night,” he adds, offering her an excuse for getting coffee other than it being because she needs space to regroup.
She hates this. She hates that just when she thinks she’s okay she realizes that she’s still so mad, and so sad, and mostly she hates that he still makes her heart flutter when he does little things like this. She nods and gets out of the shop, slamming the door harder than necessary as Tim puts his head down on the steering wheel in defeat.
She takes her time inside, uses the restroom – swallows a bitter memory, because this is one of the few places with floor to ceiling stalls – and orders. The order’s up quick, because it’s Christmas Eve and not many people are out getting donuts and coffee, but she dawdles and takes her time preparing her cup as she listens to a woman ordering donuts for Christmas morning. She gathers her thoughts and composes herself before she heads back to the shop.
“We are doing better,” she says as she opens the door and hands him a coffee, and he takes it with a nod of appreciation, clearly not having expected her to bring him anything. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not still hurt. Better will never be what it was.”
“I understand,” he says softly, playing with the cardboard wrapper around his cup. She knows that he can tell she’s prepared it just the way he likes it – almost black, but with a little bit of sugar – by his slight smile when he takes a sip.
The radio crackles to life and alerts them to a call, their personal life shelved for the moment as she buckles up and he puts his coffee in the cup holder to pull out onto the street.
December 24th, 10:30pm
Now that Tim understands what her mood is about, he gets it.
Sometimes, he thinks it’s so ridiculous that they’re here, feeling the same way – both of them sad about the loss of each other, both of them feeling the same pain about the holidays and whatever else passes by with them apart. Both of them – he’s pretty sure – longing for each other and what they had and wishing they still had it, could have it again. It’s ridiculous that they’re even in this predicament at all when it isn’t what either one of them ever wanted. It seems so outrageous that they’re both hurting from the same thing, both yearning for what they lost, when they never had to lose it at all.
It feels like it could be so simple to fix. Just get back together. That’s what they both want, isn’t it?
But he knows he’s done too much damage to the years of trust they’d built between them for it to be that easy.
Tim has to admit, a part of him has been selfish. No matter how much it hurts sometimes, he’s glad that he and Lucy work together, so he can still see her nearly every day and be around her, try and be her friend, have the opportunity to make some of it up to her somehow. He can’t even imagine how he would’ve dealt if this had been like any other breakup, where once you’re over they’re gone. Never see her again, having to leave it the way it was when it was fresh and never having the chance to smooth things over with her.
Maybe that same thing that’s been a reprieve for him is too much for her, being unable to escape the hurt he’s put upon her.
They’ve drifted into silence again and he hates it. They’ve worked together since the breakup, and it’s never been like this. But tonight being Christmas has really seemed to have gotten to her and it’s been a while since it’s been just the two of them like this – like it used to be - without rookies or whoever else tagging along. It’s such a reminder of how it used to be, when things were at their best, how they began and grew together, that it feels painful.
The Christmas music she’d turned on is still streaming from the radio – albeit, at a lower volume than she had originally tuned it to because after she got done testing his threshold, she’d lowered it – and she’s tapping her fingers against the armrest on her side of the door in tune with the song.
“How do I make this right, Lucy?” he asks suddenly, his voice laced with sincere desperation as she whips her head to look at him, confused, snapped from her musical trance. “I don’t know what to do to make this right. I can’t go back in time and undo it, no matter how much I wish that’s what I could do. So right here, where we’re at right now – how do I make this better?” There’s a long silence between them. “I can leave. Do you want me to leave? I can transfer to another station.”
God, they’ve really come full circle on their relationship - back to the idea of one of them transferring.
She lets out an irritated huff. “You really think that’s what I’d want?” she snaps, voice even but laced with a hint of hostility. “I never wanted you to leave in the first place. You’re the one who just walked away.”
“I didn’t just walk away!” he exclaims in retort, and Lucy blinks in surprise. It’s the first time, in all these months, that he’s gotten upset with her. “Sorry,” he apologizes instantly for his irritation. “Sorry, I’m… sorry.”
“You did,” she returns sharply, because this is something she knows is true and she’s tired of tiptoeing around things. “And you can’t argue with me about that because you literally said to me, That’s why I’m walking away. You said it in the parking lot, Tim, and I know because I remember every single word of that moment after playing it on repeat in my head as I cried myself to sleep so many nights.”
Tim shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back against the headrest at the pain of finally having some insight into how hurt she’d been in the days after he’d left her, having confirmation that she’d cried herself to sleep over him.
“I know I walked away,” he returns, his tone more even and slow, then takes a deep breath and calms himself. “It’s the word just that hurts.” Lucy blinks at him, surprised at how easily he’s vocalized that he’s hurt, startled by his revelation that her words hurt him. “You make it sound like it was so easy for me, like I just got tired of you and left.”
“Well, that’s what it felt like,” she says softly, eyes looking out the windshield, avoiding his gaze. “Or more like, you decided you couldn’t trust me and left.”
There’s a long pause, and Lucy begins to wonder if the conversation is over before he speaks again.
“That’s not true.”
She shrugs.
“It’s not,” he insists. “I trust you more than anything. Then and now. It had nothing to do with you. Nothing. If you never believe anything else about our breakup, believe that. Please.”
Lucy nods. “Yeah.”
“Lucy.”
“I know,” she says, and her voice cracks a little. She clears her throat and sits up straight to fix her emotions and Tim wonders if it’s his early training that’s caused her to be so self-conscious about being emotional and distracted on shift. She blinks several times to get herself in check.
“Are you cold?” Tim asks suddenly. It’s a cool night – by Los Angeles standards - and he can feel the chill in the air of the shop and he knows her well enough to notice her tells that she’s cold. She has her jacket zipped all the way up, her body’s turned inwards away from the door, and she keeps rubbing her hands on her pants. “You want the heat on?”
Lucy snorts. “I thought the heat made us weak, just like the AC.”
Tim shrugs. “I need to give other people agency for how they live their life. I can’t impose my beliefs and standards onto everyone and make decisions for them.”
Lucy blinks, raises her eyebrows as she looks at him. “That sounds suspiciously like therapy talk.” She chuckles as she gives in and hits the button for the heat then turns the dial to raise the temperature a few notches. “The word agency gave it away.”
“Regardless, it’s true,” Tim says simply. “I’m sorry for making decisions for you,” he adds softly and Lucy watches him for a moment before she nods.
She knows he’s not just talking about the temperature of the shop tonight, and over the last few years.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
December 24th, 11:45pm
They’ve been called out to a noise complaint in a quiet neighborhood due to a man dressing up his dogs as reindeer and encouraging them to pull a small snow sled down the middle of the street at nearly midnight.
“On Dasher, on Dancer!” he yells at the dogs as Tim and Lucy arrive and approach from their shop.
“Those are not their names!” a woman yells at the man from her porch. Then she mumbles under her breath, “My mother was right. I married an idiot.”
“This your husband, ma’am?” Lucy asks.
“Not for much longer if this keeps up,” she says with a roll of her eyes. She looks at the officers, waiting for a reply, and when she doesn’t get one, she continues. “Yes. But only two of those are our dogs.”
“Who do the others belong to?” Tim inquires.
“Hey! Davis!” A man comes out of his front door in his pajamas, barefoot, shouting. “What the hell are you doing, you’re stealing my dogs for dress up?”
“I need them to help pull my sleigh! God, you can’t let me borrow your dogs for the sake of Christmas?”
“That’s dognapping!”
“For god’s sake,” a woman comes out of another house rolling her eyes. “Go back inside! I just got my kids down for the night and we still have to put together a dozen different toys!”
“Hey shut the hell up, Moira! It’s Christmas! Don’t your kids want gifts from Santa?” the man retorts, gesturing to his sleigh and the dogs.
“Not from your dumbass dog reindeer!” she yells back, going inside and slamming the door.
“You know Edgar has arthritis!” the man’s wife calls. “He can’t be pulling a sleigh!”
The man ignores her and throws a tennis ball and the dogs run off after it, but are stifled by the weight of the snow sled and nothing moves but a ton of barking commences and someone yells shut up! from their window.
“Alright, sir, kindly release all the dogs back to respective their owners and take your own dogs inside?” Tim requests. “Call it a night.”
He grumbles. “I knew cops didn’t care about the War on Christmas.”
The man’s wife rolls her eyes from the porch. “Sorry about this, officers. Men, y’know?” she looks specifically at Lucy when she says this and Tim rolls his eyes, though he’s sure Lucy could have something to say that agrees with her.
The mood between them lightens up a little after the ridiculousness of it all.
“Think Kojo could pull a sleigh?” Lucy jokes with a laugh as she gets back into the shop after everyone returned to their homes, and Tim lets out a laugh at the mental image of it.
“Not the way he runs after his ball. If it’s more than ten feet away, forget about it. He’d be no help to Santa,” Tim says as he climbs into the shop and pulls his door closed.
“What was his end game, here?” Lucy asks with a laugh. “Even if the dogs could pull the sled, what was he going to have them do? Pull gifts around and deliver to kids, or…”
“That’s between him and his liquor of choice,” Tim says and they both laugh.
“So, speaking of, who was your Secret Santa?” Lucy asks as they buckle up and prepare to return to patrol.
Tim purses his lips and stares at the road ahead, clenching the steering wheel.
He desperately does not need this topic of conversation right now. He wills the radio to give them a call to respond to.
“Angela,” he tells her, honestly. Angela had surprised him yesterday before his shift with Dodgers tickets. Something so simple, but really – the best thing he could’ve gotten out of a gift exchange game when he could’ve been given one of Officer Jan’s homemade pottery projects.
Lucy lets out a little laugh. “At least she got you something you actually like,” she assumes knowingly and Tim just nods, hoping she’ll move on to something else. “Who did you have?”
Shit.
He can’t very well tell her that it’s her, because he still has time to come through with her gift and he will. If he tells her now, it will spoil the game and piss her off because he’s yet to give her anything and she’s in a light mood for the first time all night.
He also will not lie to her about anything, ever again- he swears this to himself – so he’s not willing to make something up.
“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” he tries instead. “It’s in the title. Secret.”
“Oh, come on! I don’t count!” Lucy laughs, and she actually seems free in this moment. It makes him happy for a split second, until he remembers he’s on very thin ice and he’s probably going to upset her again when she finds out it’s him who has left her high and dry thus far. “Besides, the game’s almost over, anyway. A lot of people already revealed themselves.”
“Do you know who yours was?” he asks, taking his eyes off the road for a split second to look over at her.
“No.”
“I know you. You’ll start analyzing and doing process of elimination until you figure out who it is. You already know now it wasn’t Angela.”
She shakes her head, resigned. “I don’t think I’m getting anything, anyway.”
“Why?” He knows why, but he wants to know why she thinks that, wants to know if she already feels like she’s been stood up.
Lucy shrugs. “They haven’t given me anything this week or revealed themselves yet. Maybe they decided not to play. That’s always a risk you take with these games. I don’t know. Not really surprised, it figures after the year I’ve had I’d get the Secret Santa who takes it literally and just stays a secret.”
“Maybe they don’t know what to get you,” Tim tries, even as he’s kicking himself for continuing this topic of conversation instead of letting it fizzle out.
“Whatever. It’s whatever. Not like they can give me what I want, anyway. I don’t even care, honestly.”
“Yes, you do.”
She doesn’t deny his accusation. “I gave a good gift to Nolan. That’s all that matters. I did my part and spread some joy.”
“Look, maybe they didn’t know that they were supposed to gift you small gifts all week,” Tim adds. “Because nowhere in the rules did it say that.”
Lucy scoffs. “Come on. That’s how we always play.”
He realizes then, that he’s missed out on an unspoken norm of the game by not having played in years past.
“What do you want for Christmas?”
He’s mentally smacking himself for even asking, not sure what he thinks he’ll glean from her answer, really.
She lets out a laugh. “No one will get me what I want.”
“How do you know? It’s possible.”
“Because I know!” she snaps, looking out her window to avoid his gaze.
Tim sighs, and attempts to back off. “They’ll come through. Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
She snorts. “Back in the Mid-Wilshire parking lot,” she mumbles under her breath, but he hears it loud and clear.
December 25th, 12:35am
“It’s karaoke night!”
“It’s Christmas Eve!”
“What seems to be the problem here?” Tim asks as he approaches the squabble between a man and a woman in the karaoke bar.
“He’s singing this song at me,” the woman says, gesturing at the man who is still standing on the stage. “God, you’re such an idiot.”
“’Cause all I want for Christmas…is you and me to fix this,” the man continues the last lyrics of the song even as he steps off the stage.
“You see?” the woman says in exasperation, turning from Tim and Lucy back to the man. “Why are you singing that song?”
“I can sing whatever song I want to sing,” the man snaps back.
“Is this supposed to be some Gilmore Girls karaoke moment?” she asks, hands on her hips. “Because it’s not. I don’t miss you, okay? Why are you even here? Stalker, much?”
“It’s a free country!”
The woman turns to Tim and Lucy again. “This is my ex. He just miraculously turned up at the same bar I’m at on Christmas Eve, and he’s singing love songs to me and I’m not interested. Can you arrest him or something?”
“Look, he’s right,” Lucy says gently. “And while I certainly understand wanting to escape an ex on Christmas Eve,” Tim grumbles beside her, “he has a right to be here. But if you feel he’s a danger to you, you can always file a restraining order.”
“A danger!” the man asks, aghast at the accusation. “Jesus.”
“He’s not a danger,” the woman admits with an eye roll. “Just an annoyance.”
“Okay, well then I suggest either deal with him being here or… find another bar.”
“I don’t miss you,” the woman says to her ex again, adamantly. “Not one bit, and I’m not even joking. My life is so much better without you. I’m glad you broke up with me.” The woman stalks back to her friends and they begin whispering amongst themselves.
As they walk back to their shop, the air feels heavy.
“I miss you,” Tim says softly. So softly, Lucy isn’t even sure she heard it correctly.
“What?”
“I know I have no right to say that-”
“You don’t,” she agrees with a huff.
“But I do.”
“Why would you say that right now?”
“Because I do!” he exclaims. “All the time. Every day. Ever since we’ve known each other, we’ve been around each other almost all the time, either twelve hour shifts at work or all our time after work and I miss you. And you seem to think that I don’t, that leaving was just… easy,” he trails off.
“Is that supposed to make it better?” Lucy wonders. “You miss me, but you still left me.”
“No,” Tim says, looking up at the moon in the sky, trying to clock what phase it’s in. “I just…” he sighs, unsure. “I wanted you to know.”
Tim of the past would’ve held it in until it suffocated him. Tim of the present isn’t sure what the intention is, but it has to be said. It has to be said so that she knows the truth. It has to be said so that he knows he can say the things he means, even when they’re hard.
Lucy nods, silently, and though the words are right there on the tip of her tongue, I miss you, too, this time she’s the one who holds them in.
December 25th, 2:15am
After their last two conversations, Tim treads lightly, sticking to talking about the basics.
He’s thinking about his gift options, once again – her mood tonight has sort of dampened his courage to try and talk to her about their future. But then again, everything she’s showing him tonight – her sadness, her anger, her pain – all has to do with how much she’s still hurting.
But judging by how she took I miss you, she could take I want to try again any number of ways and he fears making everything worse.
“Dinner?” he finally asks, coming out of his thoughts and taking a moment to glance over at Lucy in the passenger seat of the shop.
“Is it really dinner at two in the morning?” Lucy asks, a lightness to her voice that makes Tim feel at ease.
“It’s eight hours into our shift, that’s all I know. We’re due for a meal break.”
Lucy shrugs easily. “Sure.”
“My treat.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
She turns to look at him, studies him intensely for a long moment – so long, she can tell that Tim starts to feel self-conscious, before she nods. “Okay.”
He drives them to the only diner he knows will be open, even at this hour on Christmas Eve. He holds the door open for her like he always does – and somehow it feels like nothing has ever changed between them since the day Wrigley dropped her off in a diner and Tim came in to check on her and send her off on a call on foot.
They barely knew each other then.
But everything has changed. Everything, for better and for worse.
And yet, a part of her knows the story isn’t over. It’s not. It can’t be.
This can’t be how they end up.
They order and wait for their food, Lucy humming along to the Christmas music playing over the diner’s speakers. It’s hard to imagine, after how awkward things had been when the breakup was fresh, that things feel this normal now. Sure, she’s in a mood tonight. But a few months ago, they never would’ve been able to sit and eat together.
There’s a small group of people at a booth several over from them, participating in some gift exchange at two o’clock in the morning who are seemingly fresh off work as they’re wearing matching t-shirts with a restaurant logo. There’s also an older man drinking a coffee at the counter, but other than that it’s quiet.
She asks Tim about Genny and the boys, recalling he had said they were going to see their dad. She knows asking about a personal topic might be hard right now, but it’s better than the surface level conversation starters. It actually works, and he starts rattling off to her a lot of information about what the boys have been up to.
“What the fuck is this!” a woman from booth yells, upset, and the old man at the counter turns to look at them, curious.
“You said you wanted something practical!” a man in the same booth retorts.
“Cleaning supplies for Christmas? Really? Some Secret Santa you are!”
“It’s a holiday scent!”
Just as they’re contemplating if they are going to have to step in before things escalate, the woman gets up and storms out, throwing the holiday scented dish soap back into the diner behind her with a thud. The man at the counter looks down at it, shrugs, and picks it up, tucking it into his bag.
The waitress places the bill on their table, unfazed by the disruption, and Tim snatches it up.
“You really don’t have to,” Lucy insists.
Tim takes a deep breath. He can’t be as bad as the Secret Santa who gave dish soap, can he? “Look at it this way. Think of it as your first little gift for the week. Apparently, I’m behind schedule.”
“Huh?”
Tim gulps. He has to own up to this. If he has any prayer of making things work between them again, he has to be open with her. He has to be able to tell her he knows he’s screwing up her Secret Santa gift, he has to be able to explain why he’s struggling. He knows she’s going to find out he’s her Secret Santa eventually, even if it’s when he reveals himself, so he may as well bite the bullet now before this charade goes on too long and it seems like a lie.
“Is this a bad time to tell you I’m your Secret Santa?”
Lucy gapes at him, jaw dropping in surprise, because somehow, she hasn’t ever seemed to consider this possibility. “You’re the Secret Santa who stood me up?”
“No. I didn’t… I…” he sighs.
“First you break up with me, then you leave me hanging for Secret Santa,” she mutters, and he can’t tell if she’s truly pissed or just teasing him.
“I didn’t stand you up!” he insists. “I didn’t know people were doing little gifts all week because I’ve never played before. And I’ve been going back and forth with what to do. Ask my therapist.” Lucy raises an eyebrow at that. “Now, given the hostility in the air tonight, I’m really rethinking it.”
Lucy sighs, her expression changing into something of guilt. “I’m just having a hard day.”
“I know.” He puts his cash down on the tray with the bill. “That’s fine. And I promise, I didn’t stand you up, okay? It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks. I just didn’t know what kind of gift is…”
She lets out a sigh, and a nod. “I know. I get it.” She glances out the window of the diner for a moment and laughs at the situation he’s found himself in, then she takes a remaining fry from her plate. “Honestly, Tim, feel free to just have a get out of jail free card, no hard feelings.”
“As if you don’t already have plenty of those.”
“I don’t want to,” she says softly. “I really don’t want to. I just – I’ve never felt like this after a breakup before,” she finishes, tears in her eyes. “It’s never been so hard. It never gets easier. Even when it feels like it is, it still isn’t. I’ve never felt so blindsided by being broken up with before. I never felt so confused about why it happened.”
“I’m so sorry,” Tim says softly, because he has nothing else to say to that – it’s one hundred percent the truth. He’s sorry for all of it, and she didn’t deserve any of this.
“I thought we were fine, you know?” she says, looking out the window for a moment before looking back down at her hands. “Even with everything going on with me – the detective’s exam, the shooting with Budny – you were there for me the whole time. I mean, the Budny thing had just happened. It was so recent that the night you disappeared you had barely just brought me the radio. I felt so safe and secure with you and then in a split second you were just… gone. I have never felt that type of shock or confusion before in my life.”
He takes a deep breath, because this is the closest that they’ve ever come to discussing what happened between them in a calm, mature way. It’s the most she’s ever gotten to express about her side of things. Before, he wasn’t ready to talk about it – or, selfishly, to listen to it. He wasn’t even sure he understood it himself for a good while, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to explain any of it to her.
But now, things are different.
“I know you think it was easy for me to walk away,” he begins carefully, “and I understand why. But you never should have felt like that, because it was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever done, Lucy. It destroyed me more than you’ll probably ever realize. And I hear you. I can only imagine how blindsided you felt. Meanwhile, I have to live with the fact that I’m the one who did it. I’m the one who caused the person he loves more than anything so much pain, I’m the one who took the best thing that ever happened to him from himself. Every ounce of it was in my control, it was all me that hurt both of us, and I have to live with that regret every day. I mean, I even took an emergency therapy session with Dr. London…” he trails off, realizing what he’s just revealed.
“Emergency?” Lucy asks, head whipping up at him, understanding the serious implications.
“Yes.” There’s a thick silence between them. “I-“
He’s interrupted when the woman returns, yelling and cussing as she grabs dishes from the adjacent table and begins throwing them at the wall near her Secret Santa’s head. The employee on shift behind the counter starts yelling at her, looks at Tim and Lucy in a plea just as they both jump up from their table to intervene, their conversation paused when they have to transport her back to Mid-Wilshire.
“Stupid thing to get arrested for, eh?” the woman asks them from the back of the shop with a sigh. When neither Tim nor Lucy answer, she continues to talk. “Think he could’ve at least come up with something more satisfying than cleaning supplies, y’know? For Christmas?”
Lucy lets out a chuckle under her breath. “Hey at least he gave you something.”
Tim grimaces and she shoots him an apologetic look to let him know she’s only teasing.
“Is snowdrop really considered a holiday scent, though?” the suspect asks.
The ads on the radio station end and the next song starts up louder than expected. The first lines of Last Christmas blare out of the radio and the suspect laughs which makes Tim reach out to turn the volume down.
“Goddamn, now I lost Whamageddon,” the suspect says with a sigh. Tim gives Lucy a confused look, and she just shakes her head, a move he interprets as I’ll fill you in later and it feels so familiar and comfortable for a moment. “And this song is so stupid anyway,” she continues on and Tim rolls his eyes at her prattle. “The very next day, you gave it away? How do you give someone your heart and then they just give it away the next day?”
“It can happen,” Lucy says with an ironic chuckle. “Believe me.”
“This year, I’ll give it to someone special,” she continues. “Like oh good idea, so the last person was just some rando, no one special?”
“Maybe they were,” Tim interjects, to the surprise of both women. “Maybe they were special to them and they did care about their heart but they made a mistake they’ll regret forever because they were going through something really fucked up.”
“Are police officers supposed to cuss while on duty?” the suspect asks casually.
“Okay,” Lucy continues, ignoring her. “I do understand that. But giving someone your heart means that you’re a team. You’re supposed to go through things together and work out things together, no matter the consequences. No one is responsible to protect the other person to their detriment.”
“Maybe people go to therapy and realize it’s been engrained in them since they day they met this person to be responsible for and protect them – at work, it was literally their job as their training officer and boss – and they realize, now, that they were doing the same thing in their relationship.”
Lucy nods, considering. “I could see that.”
“And maybe they were so ashamed of themselves, and of going against everything they’d ever been adamant that they were, that they couldn’t imagine being deserving of this kind of love.”
“They were.”
“Maybe they know that now. And maybe they’re finally learning how to be the best person – and partner – they can be.”
“That’s fair.”
“So, the real question is – can the person who gave away their heart ever trust to give it away to the same person again? If that person has grown and reflected and has been working on fixing themselves?”
Lucy lets out a breath. “I’m not saying it would be easy. But the other person has to be clear about what they really want, because they’re the one who left.”
“Are we still talking about the song?” their suspect asks with a quirked eyebrow as she starts humming along to Last Christmas.
December 25th, 5:15am
After booking their suspect from the diner, they hit the streets once more and they’re called as back up for another patrol unit on what will likely be their last call of the shift.
A man who is clearly drunk is dressed in a Santa suit and yelling outside of a house to see his kids. He stands outside his ex-wife’s house where his kids are inside asleep, calling for them.
The ex-wife and her new husband came outside and started a tussle with drunk Santa and patrol was attempting to diffuse it when the neighbors got involved and they called in for backup. Tim and Lucy were just blocks away when the call came in and responded, arriving quickly and clearing the neighbors.
But Santa gives everyone on scene a hard time, wobbles around, trips over the curb and falls and no one notices the empty, broken beer bottle he picks up from the ground as he rises until he stumbles into Lucy, she reaches out to stabilize him, and the sharp edge slices through Lucy’s jacket.
That gives Tim the final push he needs to be pissed with Santa, takes him down and cuffs him and looks to Lucy in concern.
“Merry Christmas!” drunk Santa yells, before letting out a loud belch.
“I’m fine,” she tells Tim before he can even say a word. “It caught my jacket.”
Tim hands Santa off to the first officers who were on scene. “Make sure to add assaulting an officer to his arrest,” he barks and the young officer nods. “Let me see,” he says to Lucy.
“Tim,” Lucy huffs in annoyance.
“What, I’m not allowed to ask? I would’ve asked before we were ever together.”
“Tim. I’m fine. It’s just a small cut,” she says now as she applies a little pressure to the bleeding.
“Now it’s a cut? I thought you said it just caught your jacket,” he retorts, taking her arm and looking at the incision. “Should we go to the hospital?”
“What? No. No, it’s fine,” Lucy says with a shake of her head. “It’s just surface level. It’s not even deep.”
“Are you sure, because…”
“If we go to the hospital it’s going to just prolong this shift and they’ll laugh me out of there and tell me to put a band-aid on it. I just want to go home and go to sleep and be done with this holiday.”
Tim nods, understanding. Let her make her own decisions, he remembers, even if he’d feel better that she got it checked out because who knows if that bottle was clean. But Lucy is an adult. If the cut shows signs of infection, she knows to take action.
“Okay, fine. But we have to clean it at least,” he insists and Lucy nods in agreement as they walk to the back of their shop. He pulls out the first aid kit and reaches his hand out and gestures for her arm as she gives in and sits down on the bumper. She frowns even as she shrugs out of one side of her jacket and hands her arm over. He gently wipes it with the alcohol wipe from the first aid kit. She blinks as it stings momentarily, but then she relaxes as he gives her hand a squeeze of understanding at her pain and he works on her wound.
Another small dose.
He’s been doing a lot of those lately.
“We can’t talk like that,” Tim says softly. “Like we did in the shop with the suspect from the diner.”
Lucy quirks an eyebrow. “I know, I know. No personal talk in front of the suspects.”
“No, I mean,” he lets out a deep breath. “We can’t talk in riddles like that. That’s not going to fix anything. We have to be clear with our communication.”
A thick silence envelopes them.
“You’re right,” Lucy says softly. “So, then does that mean your ultimate goal is to fix things?”
Tim huffs out a breath of nerves. “I know I hurt you, Lucy, and I’m sorry. I can say it a thousand times and I know it doesn’t help anything, I know it’s not enough, but you’ll never know how much I truly mean it. I’m sorry. If you think I don’t regret it every day? You’re wrong.”
Lucy bites her lip to keep the tears from falling.
“I was in such a bad place that night. And then after I came out from the deep, dark, pit of despair I was in that made me think I had to do this, after the fog cleared and I start to think rationally again, and especially after some therapy, I realize that it didn’t have to be like that. But now it’s too late. I did it and everything is gone. So, yes. If I could have it my way, we could fix this.”
“It’s not all on you, Tim, okay?” she replies carefully. “I made mistakes, too.”
He shakes his head and scoffs. “I’m the one who ended it.”
Lucy shrugs. “Both of us made mistakes communicating. I can see that now and maybe if we had worked on that earlier – or paid attention to the signs – maybe something could have been different that night.”
“The truth is, I needed help,” he says softly. “No matter what, it was there, waiting to implode. A lot of it I never even realized. And even if it hadn’t ever come to the surface and we kept on the way we were – it would’ve kept me from being the best partner I could be to you. But I regret the way it all went down, that you were stuck in the middle of it, that I hurt you like that, that I couldn’t see other options. It’s ironic, because I thought leaving would mean I didn’t bring you down with me. But I still did.”
She watches him as she thinks over her next words. “There was no way not to by that time, Tim. That’s what you have to understand. Once we’re in it like that together, we’re in it together.”
“I know. I understand now. I…” There’s a thickness in the air and he knows it’s now or never. “Lucy, I’m going to be very clear here, okay?” he says, looking down at her arm and finishing bandaging her wound before looking up at her as she nods. “I’m sorry for walking away. I love you,” he hears her let out a small gasp at hearing those words again after so long. “I loved you that night and I love you now. Nothing has changed. I didn’t handle it right, but the sentiment was accurate - you deserved better. You deserved better than someone who would disappear for days on end and shut you out and break the law and lie about it¬. Someone who couldn’t open up about his feelings even about the most important things. But I didn’t realize then that I could become someone better. I don’t want this to be what ends us. I don’t want my past and my trauma to be what ruins us and the future we could have, when it’s already taken so much from me. Especially when I know I’m becoming the best version of myself. I want you to be a part of that phase of my life. You deserve that. I deserve that. But I understand you might not ever be ready for that. And if you’re not or you don’t want that, then – I will accept whatever place in your life you allow me to have. If any.”
She lets out a soft sigh and a gentle chuckle at his implication. “Like you could ever get rid of me completely, Bradford.”
He lets out a real, true, genuine laugh and pats her arm, indicating she’s good to go as they let the conversation trail off into a sense of hope.
December 25th, 6:30am
Lucy knows that she shouldn’t be surprised when Tim’s leaning against the wall, waiting for her, when she leaves the locker room. But she is because it’s been a long time since she’s seen this vision. The station is eerily quiet, most of the Christmas Day shift already out on patrol and no one lingering or working overtime due to the holiday.
“Hey.”
“I have two gifts,” he says by way of greeting as he pushes off the wall.
“Oh?” she asks with a quirk of her eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Are you my Secret Santa?!”
“Very funny.” He hands her a small gift bag with the bracelet. “This one is the real gift.”
“And the other one isn’t?” she asks as she gives him a questioning glance.
“The other one is more of a gesture,” he clarifies, wiping his palms nervously on his jeans and then rubbing them together quickly before looking up at her. “Which, to be honest, is why I’ve put off giving you your gift this whole time. I’ve been trying to build up the courage to do this and… I’d really like to give you that real, adult conversation. If it’s not too late.”
Lucy sucks in a breath, looks up at him and locks her eyes on his. “It’s not too late.”
Tim lets out a nervous breath and a smile. “I know – I know we have a lot to talk about and today we only scratched the surface but I want you to be able to hear it all before you make any decisions.”
“We love each other. Isn’t that what it comes down to?”
“You say that like it’s so simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Is it, for you? After everything?”
She shrugs. “I was ready to stand there and support you that night.”
“I know that. I know – I know you were standing there, saying all the right things. But it scared me, because you were excusing things that you didn’t really believe were okay. I didn’t want you to become that person just because you love me.”
“I’m not perfect either, Tim,” she states softly. “And we’ll talk about all of that. But you can’t see me as some perfect person that is only going to be ruined by you.”
He nods. “I get it.”
“So, I guess, what I’m wondering – is why wouldn’t I be willing to support you, now?” She reaches out to take his hand. “Yes, you hurt me worse than I have ever been hurt. But nothing about what happened between us was done with ill intent. Nothing that should make it so impossible to forgive. We’re not that ex-couple from the karoke bar who hate each other. So, for now it is that simple. One time only – because I swear if you ever walk away from me again or disappear on me again, Tim, that’s it.” He nods his understanding. “You asked me what I want for Christmas.”
“I did,” he confirms, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
“I want to fix this with you,” she says simply. “I already know that, no matter what comes from our conversations.”
“Yeah?” he asks with a soft, tentative smile.
“Yes. I was right earlier. It’s never going to be what it was. But maybe it can be better. If you understand that once we do this again – once we’re intertwined again, that’s it. Your issues are mine and mine are yours because there’s no way to protect each other from ourselves without hurting each other. I know you think I don’t, but I do trust you, I trust that after everything you wouldn’t ask to try again if you weren’t sure it wasn’t going to end with me getting hurt like that again. I do trust that.”
“I mean, I might upset you from time to time-“ Lucy lets out a little snort that says she’s sure he will – “but I will never shut you out or walk away again. I’m going to stay in therapy. We can go to therapy together if we have to. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Then yeah,” she agrees, grinning at him, and somehow, despite everything, the feeling is so familiar and it feels so easy. “Look, turns out we spent Christmas Eve together after all,” she laughs and he lets out a chuckle. “Maybe… for today, before we get deep into everything, we could get some sleep and then meet later and grab Kojo for an afternoon hike? Spend the holiday together after all? I don’t have plans with Tamara until tonight.”
“God, that sounds perfect,” he agrees as he steps closer to her. “And next year… next year is ours.”
She laughs and nods, and steps into his arms allowing him to wrap her in a hug, his chin resting on the top of her head as he momentarily sways her in his arms.
“Well, I guess it only took us twelve hours in a shop sitting side by side,” she says with a soft little laugh.
Tim hums into her hair. “That is the way we fell in love with each other to begin with.”
“Yeah,” Lucy agrees softly, the beauty and truth of his words washing over her and making her feel a sense of peace. Then, she laughs.
“What?”
She pulls back a bit to look up at him. “Who knew my Secret Santa would actually come through with the one thing I really wanted for Christmas, after I thought he’d bailed on me?”
“Well, that sounds way too much like a metaphor,” Tim grumbles and Lucy laughs, shaking her head to show that that’s not what she meant. “I told you it was possible.”
“Shut up,” she laughs.
“Merry Christmas,” he adds into her hair and carefully presses a kiss to it, causing her to sigh. “Sorry it was a little late.”