Chapter Text
Lucy should have foreseen the shift in her relationship the first time she and Chris fought and he had gotten too angry. He had gotten violent, and while he didn’t actually hit her, he had come close to doing so and it was scary.
She had just gotten back from a long shift after working overtime, wanting a shower and a good night of sleep. She never did sleep that night.
When stepping into her apartment, she was met with Chris on the couch with a beer in his hand, which wasn’t unusual because sometimes he would wait for her at the apartment to spend some time with her. When she stepped closer and got a look at his face, she noticed how his eyes were rimmed with red, his face was flushed, and there was another empty beer bottle on the table. Chris got up from his seat on the couch and pounced toward her so quickly that it startled her.
“Lucy!” He growled, “Where have you been?” He’d immediately started yelling at her, seething in a way she never expected the nice guy from the DA’s office to act. Lucy knew he preferred to know if she was working overtime, but he had never yelled at her like that before.
“I’m sorry Chris, I just got sucked into overtime, I meant to call you but-”
“You were with Tim, weren’t you?” She had begun to explain, but was cut off by her boyfriend's accusations. She could hear the way his breaths heaved, full of tension and anger, and saw how his nostrils flared as he took another step toward her.
Lucy took a step away, backing herself into a wall as she tried to put distance between them, feeling put off by the way anger bounced off him in a way that made her nervous. She didn’t think Chris would actually hit her, but it didn’t feel good to be standing this close to him while he was mad and clearly drunk.
She wrinkled her brow at the mention of Tim as his source of anger. “Y-yeah, I-I mean, we rode together today. Because I’m his aide,” She stuttered under the weight of Chris’s demaner. “I’m his aide. We work together, Chris.” She repeated.
“You need to stay the hell away from him!” He shouted, cornering her and placing a hand on her shoulder with an uncomfortably tight grip and his other hand on the wall. She gasped, flinching but unable to go anywhere as he punched the wall beside her. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched at his violent display of anger unlike anything she’d seen from him before. He had shoved her a few times, or held her wrist tightly when he was mad, but this time she was genuinely scared. She was never scared of him before. After she was still for a moment, she spoke.
“Get out,” she said, her voice low.
“Babe, I’m sorry, I just don’t like-”
“Get the fuck out!” She yelled, pointing at the door. Thankfully, he listened and saw himself out.
She let out a large breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and slid down the wall. Tears sprang to her eyes and she buried her head in her hands before beginning to sob. She rubbed the spot on her shoulder that Chris had grabbed, knowing there would be a bruise tomorrow. After crying for a good few minutes she got up, threw out the bottles he’d left behind, and changed in her room. She laid in bed that night, not sleeping, but thinking about the interaction she just had.
Chris had always seemed like a good, caring guy. She knew that he cared about her and had probably been changed by Rosalind's attack on him two months prior. After her own ideal with Rosalind, she never would’ve taken her anger out on someone like that, but everyone took their trauma differently.
Maybe Chris just needed her support and some extra therapy sessions. She also didn’t want to become a victim, but he hadn’t hit her. He wouldn’t. She’d seen the statistics and worked domestic cases. She saw firsthand how victims of domestic abuse become blinded and get tricked into thinking they would change or that they loved them.
But Chris wouldn't do that.
Would he?
No. He wouldn’t. He’s a good guy, just traumatized.
So she decided to stay with him even when it was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with him, out of empathy. She knew he was going through a rough time and just needed patience from her.
And also out of guilt. Guilt that had been building up in her for the past two months after she almost cheated on Chris with Tim and found him bleeding out. She knew how horrible it felt to be cheated on, and she had abandoned her morals under the guise of still being undercover.
She knew that Chris was partly right in suspecting something going on with her Tim. She wasn't actually cheating on him, but she almost had, which was terrible, and she couldn’t just forgive herself for that. And she couldn’t deny that there were some unresolved feelings and tension after the undercover assignment in vegas and her time away in U.C. school, but they were mostly back to normal. Neither of them had said anything about it, and Tim was with Ashley, but it made sense for Chris to feel things about her relationship with Tim.
***
Lucy avoided Chris for a few days after the incident and went on with her life. She kept riding with Tim without ever mentioning Chris and decided to just distance herself from him for a little while, so she didn’t answer any of his texts or calls.
It was lunchtime and she had just sat down burritos for her and Nolan at their usual table by the food trucks. She glanced up from him and saw Chris ten or fifteen paces away.
“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, hoping he wouldn’t see her. She had been trying to stay away from him, just for a little bit.
“What's wrong?” Nolan asked, but she ignored him when Chris’s head turned to her. So, she took a deep breath and approached him. He was standing in a shaded area that wasn’t visible from most of the tables, but in view of Nolan from their table. In his hand was a small bouquet of purple flowers. She didn’t really like that variety of flower, and had mentioned previously that her favorite flower was tulips, but at least he got her flowers. The dim, gloomy overcast on the secluded spot perfectly encapsulated how she felt about seeing Chris.
Lucy spoke first. Her voice was even but her fingers scratched at the hem of her uniform jacket, something she’d always done when nervous. She was certain Chris didn’t notice it, because he didn’t seem to know her as well as a certain broody sergeant did.“Chris. Hi.” She said, plainly.
Chris smiled proudly as he spoke and handed her the flowers. She accepted it hesitantly with a shaky hand– she didn’t want to be too close to him after his outburst a few days prior. His hand wasn’t safe anymore. It wasn’t soft or comforting. It was painful, and heavy. The flowers rested in her hand by her side, pointed downward.
“Hey, Lucy!” He said, more enthusiastically than he should have. “I think we should talk about what happened the other night.”
Lucy nodded, “Yeah, we should.”
“I’ve been thinking, and I think you need to put some more effort into our relationship. I’m sorry I yelled at you, but,” he said disingenuously, “you know I don’t like when you see him and then come home late, baby. I mean, you at least should’ve told me.” Lucy noticed how his smile didn’t reach his eyes and he conveniently didn’t mention how he punched her wall and grabbed her with such force he’d left deep, purple marks. She’s sure he didn't mean to do so, but he did and all because she got home late.
Lucy scoffed, raising her voice somewhat which drew the attention of a few nearby tables, most of them cops on break. “
That’s
what you wanted to talk about? Chris, you freaked out on me because I got home to
my
apartment late after working overtime and practically accused me of cheating on you with my sergeant! Not to mention the literal hole in my wall.” She exhaled heavily and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
Lucy’s knuckles were white on the flower stems as she gripped them harshly. Chris seemed taken aback for a moment before speaking.
“C’mon, Lucy, I said I’m sorry! You know I didn’t mean it, I was just stressed and Rosalind really messed with my head.”
Lucy stared at him for a moment before giving in. She took a breath and forced a smile. She felt a little shitty to be upset at him if he was just deeply affected by Rosalind. “Fine. It’s fine.”
Chris grinned stupidly. “Good,” he said, sounding firm and more controlling than pleased or apologetic. “Meet me outside the station after your shift.”
“Yeah, sure. Bye.” Her voice was low and timid compared to the strength it had before. She watched as Chris stalked off toward his car and kept her head down as she walked back to her lunch table, throwing the flowers into a trash can before getting there.
Nolan must have been watching Lucy’s encounter with Nolan and had seen the scowl on her face because raised an eyebrow and began to question her when she walked up.
“Hey Lucy. What was that about?” He asked curiously.
Lucy ignored the question and picked up the container of food she’d bought minutes prior. She wasn’t hungry anymore and would much rather spend the remainder of her lunch break alone in the shop, pulling herself together. Or trying to. “Do you want this?” She asked Nolan, tilting it toward him.
“Uh- sure, I guess. You okay?
“‘M fine.” She evaded, placing the styrofoam container in front of him. Lucy stalked back to her shop, where she would be alone until lunch ends and Tim joins her or duty calls. The door flung open with the force she’d grabbed the handle with.
She sunk into the passenger seat, her shoulders drooping as she released a sigh. Burying her head in her hands, she retreated into her mind feeling utterly defeated.
Chris thought she was the problem. Which was all the more reason she should help him, not leave him. He needed support. He’d be better when he healed.
Because he was struggling.
But so was she.
Lucy blinked back tears, knowing her mind wouldn’t allow her a way out of her relationship with a man who now scared her. A man she no longer felt safe with.
The thing was, she was guilty as well. She caused this, all of it.
She felt like she did in the months after her kidnapping. Alone, and like the world wasn’t safe for her, whether emotionally or physically. She couldn’t feel her feelings anywhere, and the only place she felt safe was in her car.
***
Chris had told her he changed. He told her he didn’t mean to get so angry, and that he’d just messed up because she stressed him out. He’d taken her on a picnic and told her he loved her. His fingertips had taken her hand in his and held it as waves crashed on the shoreline and it felt as close to good as being with him could feel. She didn’t feel alone, because her sweet boyfriend was there, eating dinner with her.
So it didn’t make sense for her to be in her kitchen glassy eyed as she listened to him rant about how she wasn’t doing enough for him. It had started because she hadn’t finished cooking dinner by the time he was home. Then he’d started slurring strings of anger fueled words about how she spent too much time at work and how she needed to fix the state of the living room. He’d just been picking apart everything she’d done wrong or hadn’t done yet.
She couldn’t remember the rest of what he said because of the blow to her face that accompanied it. It paralyzed her and she’d just taken all of it. She’d let him dig his nails into the skin on her arm as he slapped her across the face and went on about everything wrong she was doing to him, every mistake she’d made. Everything that made him do this.
Her hand flung to her stinging face and her arm and shoulders ached, reacting to his force. She blinked back tears as he hit her, worse than just grabbing her tightly or shoving her around. She’d let his anger escalate.
It didn’t make sense for her to be choking out sobs after the door slammed behind him. It didn't make sense for her to be picking out concealer to hide the bruises she knew she’d have the next day before anyone commented about it.
Because Chris was sick. He needed her.
She knew that she was potentially becoming a victim of domestic violence and that abusers normally don’t change. She knew that it usually ended with the victim dead or the abuser in jail. But she was a cop. She could protect herself and it wouldn't come to that. And Lucy needed him as well. She needed to not feel so alone, and to not feel guilty about leaving him while he was recovering from a trauma that happened all because of her.