Work Text:
The hum of the engine filled the silence as Tim navigated the winding road. Smoke loomed in the distance, curling darkly into the sky.
“It was nice to see the boys. I miss coaching them,” Lucy said, glancing over at Tim.
“They bailed on baseball… all about esports now,” Tim replied with a small smirk.
Lucy chuckled. “Oh. Well, it's probably for the best. Neither of them could really hit a curveball.”
Tim huffed a quiet laugh, eyes still on the road. “You know, they asked about you a couple of times.”
Lucy looked at him, a little surprised. “Oh. Well, what did you say?”
Before he could answer, everything shifted.
Tires screeched as Tim slammed the brakes. The fire raged ahead, flames licking at the trees, sending embers swirling into the thickening smoke. A loud crack echoed as a tree snapped and collapsed onto the road.
Lucy grabbed the radio. “7-Adam-100, we have fully engulfed terrain on Eagle Rock Road. We need fire and rescue to Eagle Rock Road. We are completely blocked off in both directions.”
Grey’s voice came through the radio. “7-Adam-200 copies the last. Closest ground rescue unit's 30 out. Fire, can you advise?”
Tim’s grip tightened on the wheel. “It’ll be over by then.”
“Can you get to a clearing or off-road?” Grey asked.
Lucy scanned their surroundings. The only possible escape route was a steep drop-off beside them. “Uh, the only way off is down a cliff.”
“I’ll get someone to you,” Grey assured them.
Tim exhaled, his jaw tense as he met Lucy’s gaze. “We’ll hold out until you do.”
Flames roared around them, the heat pressing against their skin as thick smoke curled into the sky, making it harder to breathe with every second. The fire was relentless, consuming everything in its path. Tim and Lucy jumped out of the car quickly.
“We gotta get clear of the shop. Between the battery and the gas tank, this is a bomb waiting to go off,” Tim said, urgency sharp in his voice.
Lucy coughed, her throat raw from the smoke. “Everything here is going to go up like a match.”
Tim yanked open the back of the vehicle, grabbing the fire shelter. “I’m gonna grab the fire shelter.”
Lucy blinked at him, her vision blurring at the edges. “Have you ever used one of those?”
“Uh, I saw a video on YouTube once.”
A dry, disbelieving laugh left her lips before it turned into another cough. “Great.”
They didn’t have time to argue. They took off down the steep hill toward what looked like a clearing. Every step felt like trudging through hell, flames snapping at their heels, embers swirling around them like fireflies from a nightmare. Lucy stumbled, her legs shaky beneath her.
“Come on, Chen, you gotta move!” Tim’s voice cut through the chaos.
She nodded, forcing herself forward even as her body protested. The smoke was getting thicker, wrapping around her like a suffocating blanket. By the time they reached the clearing, her chest ached, her breaths shallow and labored.
Tim ripped open the fire shelter, unfolding it with practiced speed despite the fact that this was nothing like the training videos. The fire was closing in fast. A loud rumbling filled the air as another tree came crashing down somewhere behind them. Tim pulled her under the fire shelter.
Lucy swallowed hard, panic creeping into her voice. “Is this going to work?”
Tim barely glanced over. “It’s designed to reflect radiant heat, protect against convective heat, and trap breathable air, which is good, but it’s only meant for short-lived—”
“Yes. Yes is the answer I’m looking for,” Lucy cut him off, her voice thin with fear.
Tim looked at her, seeing the panic in her eyes, and nodded. “Yes. It is definitely going to work.”
The heat was unbearable, radiating through the thin material, but Tim focused on keeping them covered, on keeping her awake.
“Listen, I want to tell you something,” Tim started, his voice loud to be heard over the fire’s deafening roar.
“No, no,” Lucy said immediately, shaking her head weakly.
“What, you got somewhere you gotta be?” Tim tried to joke, but the smoke was making it harder to see, harder to think.
Lucy let out a ragged breath, her head feeling impossibly heavy. “God, you are gonna say something heartfelt because you think we’re gonna die, and I don’t want to cry right now.”
Tim huffed a laugh, tightening his hold on her. “I might say something hateful… you don’t know.”
“Yes, I do,” Lucy shot back, her voice weaker than before. She tried to focus on his face, but her vision was going hazy. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re still in love with me.”
Tim froze for half a second before scoffing. “Wow, the arrogance!”
“Am I wrong?” Lucy’s voice was slurred now, her breathing too shallow.
Tim clenched his jaw. He could hear the struggle in her words, could feel the way her body was going limp beneath him. Fear clawed at his chest, but not because of the fire.
“No, okay?” he admitted. “No, you’re not wrong. Of course, I still love you. Do you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy murmured, her eyes barely staying open.
“So that’s a yes?” Tim pressed, desperate to keep her talking.
“Oh, you are infuriating,” she mumbled, coughing violently.
“I know! I know.” Tim pulled her closer, his body half covering hers as the fire raged around them. He could feel her slipping, her body too still beneath him. He pressed his lips to her hair, whispering the only thing he could manage, the one truth that mattered more than anything else.
“I know, baby.”
The fire raged around them, a monster devouring everything in its path. The heat was unbearable, pressing down on them even through the thin fire shelter. Smoke curled underneath, making every breath a struggle.
Tim tightened his grip around Lucy, his hand cradling the back of her head, pressing her closer to his chest. She was too still. Her breathing was too shallow. He needed to keep her talking.
"You know," he started, voice rough from the smoke, "if this is how I go out... I'm glad it’s with you." He let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. "Not that I want to go out. But—if I have to—there's no one else I’d rather be with."
She didn’t answer.
Tim frowned, glancing down. Her head, still pressed against his chest, had gone slack.
"Lucy?" He gave her a slight shake. "Hey, come on, talk to me."
Nothing.
A sharp bolt of panic shot through him. "Lucy." His voice was louder now, bordering on desperate. He shifted slightly, trying to get a better look at her face, but she was limp in his arms. Her body, so full of life and fire just moments ago, was heavy and unmoving.
“No, no, no,” he whispered, his chest tightening in fear.
He was helpless. He could fight off suspects, take a bullet, run into danger without a second thought—but this? Sitting in the middle of an inferno, holding the woman he loved while she slipped away? There was nothing he could do.
"Lucy, wake up," he pleaded, shaking her again. "You gotta stay with me. Help is coming, okay? Just hold on."
Still, she didn’t stir.
Tim clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around her. The fire roared louder, but it didn’t matter. The only sound he cared about was her voice, and right now, he couldn’t hear it.
And it was killing him.
Tim adjusted his grip, shifting so that his body fully covered Lucy’s. If he couldn’t wake her up, if he couldn’t get them out of this hell, then all he could do was protect her.
The fire roared, consuming everything in its path, but he refused to let it take her. He pressed her closer, tucking her head beneath his chin, shielding her from the relentless heat. His own skin burned, the air was thick with smoke, but none of it mattered.
His only focus was her.
"You have to hold on, baby," he murmured against her hair, his voice rough, barely audible over the fire. "You’re not allowed to leave me. You hear me?"
Nothing.
He shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. "God, Lucy, I love you so much." His voice cracked, but he forced himself to keep going. "I should have said it sooner. Should have fought for us harder. I was an idiot—" His breath hitched, and he swallowed down the fear threatening to choke him. "But I’m here now, and I need you to be here too. Just—just hold on, okay?"
He felt the faint rise and fall of her chest beneath him, but it was too shallow. Too weak.
Tim clenched his jaw, his arms tightening around her. He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
His body ached, his head swam from the lack of oxygen, but he refused to give in. The only thing anchoring him to consciousness was the unsteady rhythm of her heartbeat against his. As long as that was still there, he would fight.
He buried his face in her hair, whispering promises, confessions, everything he should have told her long before now. "You are the best thing in my life, Lucy. Always have been." His voice broke. "And I’m not letting you go."
The world around them burned, but he held on.
Time had lost meaning. It could have been hours, days—an eternity. The heat had been unbearable, suffocating, burning into his skin with every second. But now… now, it felt different.
Less painful. Less intense.
Tim kept his body curled around Lucy’s, afraid to move, afraid to believe that they had actually made it. His muscles ached from holding her so tightly, from shielding her from the fire that had nearly stolen everything. But he couldn’t let go. Not yet.
Then he heard it.
Distant shouts. The unmistakable sound of voices. Boots crunching against scorched earth.
Fire crews.
His breath caught, but he didn’t move. What if he was imagining it? What if his oxygen-starved brain was playing tricks on him? The idea of hope felt too dangerous.
But then, beneath the fire shelter, the air wasn’t as hot. The searing burn had faded into something bearable. The ground beneath him, though still warm, wasn’t the inferno it had been.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for the edge of the fire shelter and lifted it just enough to see outside.
Ash. A city of ash. The fire had moved on, leaving only charred remains in its wake. The trees that had surrounded them were skeletal and blackened, the ground covered in embers and soot.
And there, just beyond the devastation, firefighters worked to battle what remained of the blaze.
Relief hit him like a truck, but it was quickly swallowed by panic as he looked down at Lucy—still limp in his arms, still far too still.
"Help!" His voice was hoarse, raw from smoke and exhaustion, but he forced it out as loudly as he could. "I need help!"
He shifted, adjusting his grip, and then he was moving—picking her up, cradling her against his chest as he stumbled toward the firefighters. His legs were weak, shaking with every step, but he didn’t stop.
"Please!" he called again, voice breaking. "She’s not—she needs—"
One of the firefighters finally heard him, turning sharply. "Over here! We’ve got survivors!"
They rushed toward him, but Tim didn’t wait—he kept moving, carrying Lucy toward them like sheer willpower alone would keep her safe.
He wasn’t losing her. Not now. Not ever.
Hands tore Lucy from his grasp, and for a moment, Tim fought against them, unwilling to let her go. But then he saw the paramedics—saw their uniforms, their equipment, the oxygen mask being pressed to Lucy’s face—and forced himself to let them do their job.
He stumbled back, gasping for breath, his fingers trembling as he reached for his radio. His voice was rough, barely more than a rasp, but he forced the words out.
“7-Adam-100… officer down. I repeat, officer down.”
Protocol. He followed protocol. His hands moved on instinct, his training taking over, but his eyes never left Lucy.
They were working fast, checking her pulse, and assessing her injuries. She still wasn’t moving.
“Come on, Chen,” he muttered under his breath, willing her to wake up.
A hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him for just a second. He turned, finding Bailey watching him with concern.
“Tim, you need to get checked out,” she said firmly.
“No, they need to focus on Lucy,” he shot back, barely glancing at her before his eyes went right back to Lucy.
Bailey sighed. “Tim, I get it, but you inhaled a lot of smoke. If you don’t get on oxygen, you’re going to pass out, and then you’re no help to anyone.”
The paramedics were already loading Lucy onto a stretcher, preparing to move her. He could hear their rushed medical terms, could see the way one of them squeezed the bag on her oxygen mask, forcing air into her lungs.
They were taking her to the hospital.
“I’m going with her,” Tim said immediately, moving to follow.
Bailey stepped in front of him. “Only if you let them hook you up for air.”
“Bailey—”
“Tim.” Her tone left no room for argument. “You’re not making it to the hospital without it. Either you get on oxygen now, or you collapse halfway there, and they have to waste time treating you instead of her.”
That got him. The thought of anything slowing Lucy’s care, of being the reason she didn’t get help fast enough, made his stomach churn.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Just—just do it quick.”
A paramedic was already there, pressing a mask to his face, the rush of clean, cool air filling his lungs. It helped, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to the hospital.
He looked at Lucy again as they loaded her into the ambulance.
“I’m coming,” he promised her, his voice muffled against the mask. “I’m right here.”
The bright hospital lights felt too harsh, the antiseptic air too clean after the suffocating smoke and fire. But none of it mattered. All Tim could focus on was Lucy.
He barely noticed Angela at first, but then she was there, standing in the middle of the ER, looking like she’d crawled through hell herself. Her face was smudged with soot, her uniform streaked with ash. An oxygen mask hung around her neck, and an IV was taped to her hand, but her eyes were sharp—searching.
Her gaze landed on him, then immediately flicked to Lucy. “What the hell happened?”
Tim swallowed, his throat raw and burning. His voice felt like sandpaper when he answered. “Fire surrounded us. We had to use a fire shelter. Lucy—she—” He exhaled shakily. “She inhaled too much smoke.”
Angela’s expression shifted, barely perceptible, but Tim caught it. A flicker of something—fear, grief, understanding.
They both turned at the sound of hurried voices.
“Her pulse is thready—”
“BP’s dropping—”
“She’s going into cardiac arrest!”
Tim felt the floor drop out beneath him.
No. No, no, no.
His knees nearly buckled, but he forced himself to stay upright. He watched helplessly as doctors swarmed Lucy, as they grabbed paddles, as someone called for a crash cart.
He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
Then—
“Clear!”
Lucy’s body jerked. The monitor still screamed.
“Again!”
The second shock came, and then—
A beep. Weak. Unsteady. But there.
Tim’s hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as they rushed Lucy away. He wanted to follow, but Angela grabbed his arm, physically holding him back.
“She’s alive,” Angela said, her voice firm, steady—grounding. “They’ve got her.”
Tim barely registered it when another nurse appeared beside him, guiding him to a bed. He didn’t fight it when Angela pushed him down, forcing him to sit.
“Let them check you out,” she ordered.
Tim didn’t argue. He had no fight left in him.
He just kept his eyes locked on the doors Lucy had disappeared through.
Tim stared at the closed doors, willing them to open, willing someone to come out and tell him Lucy was okay. But they didn’t. And the silence, the waiting, was suffocating.
The oxygen mask over his face felt useless. It wasn’t clearing the heaviness in his chest, wasn’t easing the tightness in his throat. He ripped it away, his hand shaking as he turned to Angela.
“She didn’t say it back.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Angela, lying on the bed next to him, her own oxygen mask in place, lifted it slightly. “What?”
Tim clenched his jaw, his eyes burning—not just from the smoke. “I told her I loved her.” He exhaled sharply. “And she didn’t say it back.”
Angela frowned, tilting her head. “Tim—”
“I thought—” He ran a hand over his face, his fingers gripping his hair. “I thought she was saying yes when I asked, but….” His voice cracked. “And now—” He gestured weakly toward the doors, swallowing hard. “Now I might never get to hear her say it again.”
Angela sat up slightly, wincing. “Tim, she was barely conscious. She was inhaling smoke, struggling to stay awake. That wasn’t the moment for a grand declaration.”
Tim shook his head, his hands tightening into fists. “I waited too long. I should have fought for her sooner. I should have—” He stopped, his breath unsteady. “I shouldn’t have walked away.”
Angela sighed, leaning back against the bed, looking at him with something softer in her expression. “You’re not too late, Tim.”
He let out a bitter laugh. “Feels like I am.”
Angela didn’t argue, didn’t try to force empty reassurances on him. Instead, she reached out, her fingers gripping his wrist.
“She’s strong,” Angela reminded him. “And she loves you, even if she didn’t say it in that moment.”
Tim didn’t answer. He just put the mask back over his face, closing his eyes, trying to hold on to the sliver of hope Angela was offering.
Grey walked into the waiting area, his usual composed demeanor strained with something heavier. His eyes scanned the room, landing on Tim and Angela. Tim barely acknowledged him, still sitting on the hospital bed, oxygen mask now discarded. Angela, now off her treatment, stood beside him, arms crossed, a stubborn set to her jaw.
Grey exhaled. “Any update?”
Angela shook her head. “Nothing yet.”
His lips pressed into a thin line before he turned his attention to Angela. “Go home. Get some rest.”
Angela scoffed. “Not happening.”
“Angela—”
“No.” She cut him off with a sharp look. “Not until we hear something about Lucy.”
Grey held her gaze for a moment before nodding, conceding the argument. He knew better than to push.
Silence settled between them. The beeping of machines, the occasional murmur of hospital staff, the distant squeak of sneakers against tile—background noise that only made the waiting feel longer.
Tim hadn’t spoken since Grey arrived. He sat stiffly, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The longer the silence stretched, the more Grey could see the weight pressing down on him.
Tim’s fingers curled into fists. His mind was a relentless loop of what ifs . What if he had moved faster? What if he had found a better spot to take cover? What if he had done something—anything—differently?
As if sensing the turmoil, Grey spoke. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Tim’s head lifted slightly, his eyes clouded with doubt. “Didn’t I?” His voice was rough, tired.
Grey’s expression softened, just a fraction. “You saved her life, Tim.”
Tim swallowed, his jaw tightening. “She almost died.”
“But she didn’t.” Grey’s voice was firm. “Because you didn’t give up on her.”
Tim looked away, his chest tightening. He wanted to believe that, but until Lucy opened her eyes, until she was safe—he wasn’t sure he could.
Tim leaned forward, hands clasped tightly together, barely holding onto his patience. His voice was raw when he finally spoke. “Why the hell didn’t we know the fire was moving?”
Grey exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m investigating it.”
“That’s not good enough,” Tim snapped, his exhaustion making his temper short. “Lucy almost died. People could’ve gotten out if they had been warned. Someone needs to answer for this.”
Grey’s expression didn’t change. “It might not be anyone’s fault.”
Tim clenched his jaw, barely restraining the anger simmering beneath his skin. “We were out there blind, Grey.”
Angela, sitting beside him, crossed her arms. “Someone should have radioed in an update.”
Grey sighed. “Ridley apparently already gave someone a talking-to for not passing on the information.”
Tim and Angela shared a look. That didn’t sit right.
Angela frowned. “Who?”
“Don’t know yet.”
Tim didn’t answer, but he felt his stomach churn. Ridley, that kid had a habit of lying. He didn’t bring it up. Not yet. There were bigger priorities right now.
Before anyone could say anything else, the door opened, and a doctor stepped in, looking exhausted but composed. Tim shot to his feet.
“She’s alive,” the doctor said immediately, reading the desperation in his eyes.
Tim felt his knees threaten to give out.
“She’s extremely weak,” the doctor continued. “The combination of severe smoke inhalation and heat exposure took a toll on her system. Her oxygen levels were dangerously low, and she went into cardiac arrest, but we were able to stabilize her.”
Tim swallowed hard. “And now?”
“She’s unconscious, but her vitals are holding. The next 24 hours are critical. We need to monitor her for potential complications—lung damage, secondary infections—but for now, she’s fighting.”
Tim nodded numbly, his throat thick with emotion.
Angela placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “Can we see her?”
“Yes,” the doctor nods. “Only one at a time.”
Tim exhaled slowly, his hands shaking at his sides. She was alive. Weak, barely hanging on, but alive. And that had to be enough. For now.
A nurse guided him down the hall, the scent of antiseptic thick in the air. His boots felt heavier with each step, like the weight of everything was finally catching up to him. When they reached Lucy’s room, the nurse gave him a brief nod before stepping aside.
Tim hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping inside.
She looked so small in the hospital bed, tubes and wires attached to her, the steady beep of the monitors the only indication that she was still here. Oxygen flowed through the mask over her nose, her chest rising and falling so faintly it made his breath catch.
He swallowed hard and sat beside her, carefully taking her hand in his. Her fingers were warm but limp in his grasp.
“Hey, Lu,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
She didn’t stir. He hadn’t really expected her to.
Tim brushed his thumb over her knuckles, the memory of holding onto her for dear life still fresh. His throat tightened. “You scared the hell out of me.”
Silence.
He exhaled shakily and let his head drop forward for a moment. When he looked at her again, his voice was softer. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need you to know… I meant what I said.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “I love you. I never stopped. And I need you to wake up, okay? Because I’m not done loving you yet. I don’t want to be.”
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, shaking his head at himself. “You’d probably tell me I’m being dramatic.”
His fingers brushed against her wrist, seeking out the slow but steady beat of her pulse. It grounded him, kept him from spiraling.
“Just come back to me, Lucy.” His voice broke slightly. “Please.”
He squeezed her hand, holding onto her as if sheer willpower could bring her back. And then, for the first time in hours, he let his eyes close, resting his forehead against her hand, and waited.
Hours passed.
Tim barely noticed the nurses coming and going, checking her vitals, adjusting her IV. He sat by her side, his hands constantly moving—anything to keep busy, to make sure she was taken care of.
When a nurse offered him wipes, he took them without hesitation. He started with her hands, gently wiping away the soot and grime, tracing over each finger with a tenderness he hadn’t let himself show before. He worked carefully, methodically, like this was something he could control.
Angela had dropped off a small pack of makeup wipes, muttering, She’ll hate waking up feeling gross. Tim had nodded, understanding that better than anyone.
So he cleaned around the oxygen mask, wiping away the last traces of ash and smoke from her skin. He brushed strands of hair away from her face, fingers lingering just long enough to smooth them behind her ear. She looked peaceful now, but he knew the moment she woke up, she’d hate feeling weak, hate that she had to be here at all.
Still, he needed her to wake up.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw fire. He saw her limp body in his arms. He felt the crushing helplessness of not being able to do a damn thing except hold onto her and pray. So he stayed awake, watching her, willing her to open her eyes.
It was nearly 1 AM when he finally saw movement.
Her fingers twitched first, then her breathing changed. Tim sat up straighter, his heart pounding.
“Lucy?” His voice was hoarse, rough from hours of silence. He leaned closer, gripping her hand. “Come on, baby, open your eyes.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, like she was fighting through the fog. Then, finally, her eyelashes fluttered, and her dark eyes opened, unfocused but searching.
Relief hit Tim so hard he almost lost his breath. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
She blinked sluggishly, her eyes settling on him. She looked exhausted, confused, but there.
He swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. “You with me?”
Lucy’s lips parted, voice barely above a whisper. “Tim?”
He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, squeezing her hand. “Yeah, I’m here.” His voice cracked. “I’ve got you.”
She tried to speak again, but the oxygen mask made it difficult. Her fingers curled weakly around his, a silent reassurance.
Tim exhaled, brushing his free hand over her forehead, smoothing back her hair. “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted, voice rough.
Lucy’s tired eyes softened slightly, and despite everything, her lips twitched in the faintest ghost of a smile. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Tim huffed out a shaky laugh, pressing a kiss to her hand. “Yeah, well… just don’t do it again, okay?”
She blinked slowly, exhaustion pulling at her, but she didn’t let go of his hand.
Tim held on tighter. He wasn’t letting go either.
The morning light filtered through the hospital blinds, casting a soft glow over the room. Tim sat across from Lucy, his arms crossed, eyes closed—but she knew he wasn’t asleep. He hadn’t left her side all night, and even now, she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his foot tapped lightly against the floor. He was still on high alert, still carrying the weight of everything that had happened.
Lucy exhaled softly, the breath catching in her throat as she let out a small cough. Her chest still ached, her lungs burning from the smoke, but she pushed past it. “Having an experience like that really just crystallizes your priorities,” she said, her voice raspier than usual. “It’s crazy.”
Tim’s eyes flickered open, and he looked at her, his voice quiet but steady, though slightly hoarse. “Yeah, my priorities were already clear.”
Lucy coughed again, bringing a hand to her chest before clearing her throat. “I keep talking about it, but I have to… I have to get serious, you know.” Her voice wavered slightly, and she swallowed before continuing. “I need to move forward in my career.”
Tim nodded, shifting in his chair. “Yeah. Yeah, I—I agree.” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself.
She hesitated for a moment before glancing at him. “You know, um…” She took a slow breath, willing herself to keep going. “I’ve been thinking about taking the sergeant’s exam.”
Tim’s brows lifted slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was soft, and there was something unreadable in his expression.
“Yeah,” Lucy said, her voice a little shaky.
Tim studied her for a moment before leaning back slightly. “Well, I mean, if you pass, then I wouldn’t be your supervisor anymore.”
She blinked, tilting her head. “That’s a good point.” Her lips twitched slightly before she admitted, “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Tim let out a rough chuckle, coughing once before shaking his head. “I’ve got some excellent books on tape. I could, uh, help you study.”
“Oh.” Lucy let out a small, breathy laugh, though it quickly turned into a cough. “Well, the test isn’t for another few months, but it’s always good to get a head start.”
Tim nodded, but his expression sobered as the air between them shifted. There was something unspoken lingering between them—something heavier.
Lucy took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the blanket. “Tim… I’m not ready to just go back to how things were.”
Tim’s face fell slightly, but he didn’t look surprised. Just… resigned. He swallowed hard, his voice rough. “Okay.”
She swallowed, meeting his gaze, and when she spoke again, her voice wavered. “But I love you.”
Tim sucked in a breath. His posture went rigid as if bracing himself for impact. He had wanted to hear those words for so long, had needed to, but now that she was saying them, he could see the hesitation in her eyes.
“I didn’t want to say it when we were about to die,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I needed to say it when it mattered—when it could mean something.”
Tim exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. “Lucy, I don’t—I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat again. “I just…” He shook his head. “I just want you to be okay.”
She offered a small, sad smile. “I just need time.” Her fingers curled into the blanket as she spoke. “Besides… we have two months before we’re out of the chain of command.”
Tim let out a short, breathless laugh, nodding. “That’s true.” His gaze softened as he reached for her hand, carefully, letting her decide if she wanted to take it. She did. Their fingers tangled together, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust.”
Lucy nodded. “Yeah.”
Tim coughed lightly into his shoulder, then squeezed her hand again, his voice steadier this time. “And I will. I’ll keep working on it.”
She exhaled, her grip tightening slightly in return. It wasn’t a perfect resolution. It wasn’t a fairytale ending. But it was a start.