Chapter Text
The room hums with low conversation as everyone drifts into roll call.
Lucy slips into her seat next to Tim, catching the tail end of Nolan teasing Jackson about something to do with his hair. Across the room, Lopez and Harper lean against the wall, coffee cups in hand, deep in conversation. Grey walks in right on time, commanding the room with just a look.
“All right, listen up!” he barks, cutting through the chatter like a blade. “We’re short-staffed today. The Detective Bureau’s pulling overtime on that bomber case that’s been clogging up our city the past month.”
Lucy straightens in her chair. She remembers reading about it—targeted attacks, makeshift devices, a real piece of work.
“Patrol’s job is to keep eyes peeled,” Grey continues. “APB’s out for Leonard Moss, former bomb tech turned felon. If you get anything—anything—you call it in, don’t try and play hero.”
His eyes land a little too pointedly on Nolan, who raises his hands innocently.
Grey moves on, listing assignments. “Bradford, Chen—you’re riding together. If any bomb-related calls come in, you’re first response.”
Lucy feels Tim’s gaze flick toward her, sharp and assessing like always. She offers a tiny nod—I’m ready. He says nothing, but she sees the approval in the set of his jaw.
Grey wraps up quickly. “Stay safe out there. Dismissed.”
Chairs scrape back. Nolan claps Jackson on the back, joking about who’s buying coffee. Angela and Nyla discuss a potential lead on Moss in hushed tones. Lucy follows Tim toward their shop, adrenaline already thrumming through her veins.
The call comes in halfway through second watch.
“Suspicious activity, abandoned construction site, East Fourth,” dispatch crackles in their car. “Caller reports sighting subject matching Leonard Moss’s description.”
Tim snatches up the mic. “7-Adam-19 responding.”
Lucy’s heart jumps. Their guy. Maybe.
“You ready for this?” Tim asks, his voice low as he pulls a tight U-turn.
Lucy smirks. “Always.”
He huffs a small laugh—almost proud.
But by the time they get there, the site is too quiet. Deserted metal frames, half-poured concrete slabs, fencing torn open.
Something's wrong. Lucy feels it in her gut.
They move cautiously, guns drawn. It’s a slow sweep, Tim slightly ahead of her, his steps silent over the gravel.
And then—
Click.
Tim freezes mid-step.
Lucy’s stomach drops clean out of her body.
She sees it—small, almost invisible—the makeshift pressure plate tucked under loose dirt and metal scraps.
“Bradford,” she breathes, voice tight with terror.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe. His hand clenches around his gun.
Lucy’s brain races.
Trap. It's a goddamn trap.
Movement to their left—just a flicker—but it's enough. Lucy reacts on instinct.
She lunges.
Pushes Tim with both hands, hard enough to knock him sideways off the plate.
He stumbles, catches himself—
—and she steps down squarely onto the pressure plate.
The world narrows to a pinpoint focus. She hears the crunch under her boot, feels the subtle dip.
It's too late.
She’s trapped.
Tim whirls back around, eyes wide with horror.
“No—Lucy!”
She doesn’t dare move. Her hands are out, steady like she's trying to calm a wild animal.
“I’m okay,” she says quickly, heart hammering so loud she can barely hear her own words. “Just—don’t come closer.”
“Jesus Christ,” Tim breathes, his face draining of color.
Over his shoulder, she sees Lopez and Harper barreling onto the site, guns drawn, scanning for threats.
Angela clocks the scene immediately, her mouth tightening.
Nyla’s already moving toward her, hands up in a placating gesture. "Okay, Chen, deep breaths. You're doing great. We're gonna get you out of this."
Lucy tries to nod, but her whole body feels frozen.
Tim’s hand goes for his radio with mechanical precision, even as his eyes never leave her.
“7-Adam-19, officer in need of assistance, possible explosive device. I need bomb squad and paramedics, East Fourth construction site. Now.”
There’s a pause, then:
“Copy, 7-Adam-19. Units en route.”
Tim moves closer without thinking, but Angela stops him with a firm hand on his chest.
“You can’t get near her,” Angela says grimly. “You could trigger it.”
Tim doesn’t argue—but the agony in his face is unbearable.
Lucy wants to tell him it’s not his fault. That she made the choice. That she’d make it again a thousand times.
But right now she needs him steady.
“Tim,” she says, softer, shakier than she wants. “Talk to me.”
He shakes himself out of his horror and drops into a crouch a few feet away, as close as he dares. His voice is rough when he speaks.
“You’re not alone. I’m right here.”
Lucy locks eyes with him and holds on, like an anchor.
She doesn’t look down. She doesn’t think about the click, or the fact that one wrong move could end everything. She just watches Tim—watches the way his jaw clenches, the way his hands tremble against his knees, the way he’s trying so hard not to fall apart.
Angela’s already talking rapidly into her radio. Nyla’s checking the ground around her, slow and methodical.
Sirens wail in the distance.
Backup is coming.
But Lucy only feels the seconds ticking by, every one heavier than the last.
And Tim—Tim is still there, still watching her like she’s the only thing that matters in the world.
“Hang on, Lucy,” he says hoarsely. “Just a little longer. I promise.”
And Lucy believes him.
She has to.