Work Text:
The nervous butterflies in Lucy’s stomach have been making her feel sick all morning.
She’d planned today down to the letter, organising a checklist about closure and working through loss, testing the waters to see how far she could push Tim, get him to open up about how he really feels on their final day as training officer and rookie.
The day to finally lay it all out on the table.
She knows that it’s now or never—if she doesn’t tell him today, she never will. When would she ever get another chance? This is the last time they’re riding together for who-knows-how long. Whether they’re ever in a shop together again will depend on shift rotations and random pairings, and she doesn’t want to leave this pivotal moment to occur on a day of random opportunity.
And she definitely wouldn’t do this anywhere but the shop. It’s where their relationship was forged, this steady, tensile partnership built on trust and understanding and what started out as mutually reluctant respect. The most unlikely marvel of nature blossoming—for Lucy, at least—into something like love.
Now, she’s about to put it all out there and find out whether this spark in her chest is requited. She hopes it is—is almost certain it is.
She’s caught the way Tim looks at her when he thinks she isn’t paying attention. How he glances over with that look in his eyes when she’s rambling on too long about something, even if he should be keeping his eyes on the road.
Something had changed after Caleb.
The way Tim had held her with his knees in the dirt, clutching at her jacket and burying his face in her hair in front of everyone they worked with… that wasn’t just a relieved training officer saving his subordinate from a kidnapping. That was the desperation of someone realising he’d almost lost everything after pulling it from the ground with his bare hands.
She’s almost certain he feels the same way she does—that once tomorrow begins, they could have a shot at something real. There’s a back-up plan, of course, a way to take it all back in case her feelings aren’t met well, but she hopes she won’t have to use it.
The closure checklist was meant to serve as a countdown of sorts, a way for Lucy to give herself time to prepare to utter the most terrifying words she’s ever said out loud as they worked towards ticking off ‘acceptance’. But right now, they’re discussing her future in UC work, and as important as the conversation is to her, she’s not really focusing on it, her brain smoothly autopiloting responses as she thinks to herself that this is the perfect moment to do it.
“I happen to think that caring about people, connecting with them, is what makes me a good cop,” she says.
“It does. Just not a good UC,” Tim clarifies. “Look—to work undercover, you have to be able to lie to someone’s face; make them believe you’re their best friend and then stab them in the back. I just don’t think you have that killer instinct.”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry. But it’s better you hear it now.”
It’s the perfect set up in case she needs to hide behind her back-up plan—pretend it’s all just a joke, a prank that’s secretly tearing her heart in two—this way, she could seamlessly fold it into some reasoning of proving her worth as a UC.
She starts talking without really comprehending the words coming out of her mouth, hyper-focused on what she’s building up to as she directs the conversation into her lane.
“You’re right, and I appreciate your honesty. You always tell me the truth, no matter how painful it’s gonna be, and you deserve the same from me. I’ve been struggling with being honest with you all day,” she admits, catching as Tim freezes out of the corner of her eye, and she waves the piece of paper she’s been clutching like a lifeline as her words become honest. “I’ve been hiding behind this stupid closure checklist, trying to get up the courage to tell you something.”
She glances over as Tim’s eyes narrow, flitting in her direction for a split second. “Okay,” he draws out, apprehension colouring his tone, “what?”
Here goes nothing.
“I have feelings for you.”
There. It’s out in the universe, well and truly, and Lucy feels like she’s in free fall. She has a contingency plan in place of course, a way to take it all back if he doesn’t feel the same, but she hopes she won’t have to use it.
The silence in the shop is deafening for a moment too long, and Lucy finds herself stranded in the liminal space between him reciprocating her feelings and rejecting her entirely. Up until now, she’s had this quiet hope that the outcome would resemble the former, but now the uncertainty is starting to choke her, and she decides she wants to stay in this limbo for a little longer. Just while there’s still the possibility of something. So, she continues right as he finally starts to speak, her heart stuttering.
“Uh—like f-”
“Look—we’ve been through a lot this year,” she says, feeling like she’s about to begin dissecting her heart and laying it on the dashboard for him to observe like it’s a crime scene. “I mean, you saved my life. And I didn’t want to say anything before because I didn’t want to put you in a weird position, but now… I mean—I think the reason why you’re so protective of me and—and why you don’t want me to be an undercover cop is because…” She can feel her already-racing heart pound even harder as she utters her next words, “because you have feelings for me, too.”
“Lucy, I—”
She doesn’t dare look at him. She can read him like a book, and in a split second she realises she’s not quite ready to find out how this chapter ends just yet.
“No, listen. I—I know it’s complicated. You’re my TO; you’re responsible for me—I know that you would never cross that line, but starting tomorrow, I guess you’re not, and I…” Her coherent sentences and carefully constructed words begin to dissolve at the sudden desire to know what the hell he’s thinking before she digs herself in too far and reveals too much, unable go back on it.
“Uh—eh—first of all, I just—like—thank you.”
He takes a second to gather himself. Should it be hope blooming around the butterflies in her stomach, or desolation?
At the moment, it’s both—an immovable object against an unstoppable force, co-existing amidst her anxiety.
“Um—you’re… Look, Lucy, I’m—I’m flattered. I am.” At this, the bottom of her stomach drops out. “You’re a great girl—woman—woman…”
But as he continues, the reckless hope begins to build back up again, just a little, because it sounds so cliché and break-up-esque and it’s-not-you-it’s-me that surely he has to be kidding.
Right?
“And I—um… crap.”
He sounds so nervous and it pulls at her heart. Despite herself, Lucy takes a chance and glances over at him.
Regret immediately floods through her. She could’ve lived in the reality where he was reciprocating her feelings by his voice alone, but the discomfort on his face is so real. It’s not obvious, of course—it’s the expression Tim wears when he’s trying to hide how uncomfortable he is. But Lucy has him all figured out.
Well. She thought she did.
The desolation grows like weeds, the butterflies in her stomach being crushed by knotweed as it multiples.
She tries desperately to tamp it down for right now, though, aware that she’s going to be grieving a lot more than just their riding together unless she puts her back-up plan into action.
The last resort.
She delays it as long as possible, holding out a little longer, just in case he’s kidding and takes it back—
But he doesn’t.
So Lucy starts to laugh. The first one comes out more like a sob, and she covers her face to try and conceal the worst of it.
The air feels like it’s being forcefully pulled from her lungs as she curls towards the window, like she’s trying to hide her giggles instead of schooling her heartbreak.
Now he just has to buy it, or she’s ruined everything.
“Listen…” he trails off, and Lucy’s heart stops as she sees him do a double take towards her out of the corner of her eye.
Her hands remain over her face, hoping she can get away with covering the fake smile before he notices the strain. She settles into the part she’s playing, turns up the dial on her laughter, waits for the moment of truth that will determine whether he’s seen right through her.
“Are you kidding me?!” he exclaims, and the echo of relief feels so odd in her aching chest.
No. No she’s not kidding.
But he’s bought it, and it’s strange, feeling glad that she hasn’t ruined their friendship while her heart shatters because they can’t be more.
“I’m sorry!” she laughs, apologising for so much more than he thinks.
“Are you kidding me?” he repeats, driving the knife in further. He really doesn’t feel anything for her at all, does he?
“Wait—I’m sorry.” She really, really is.
“Oh, you’re sorry.”
Yes.
Sorry that she’d clearly misinterpreted all the signs she thought she’d seen over the months. Sorry that she’d made him uncomfortable in an attempt to be truly honest about her feelings for the first time in her life. Sorry that she’d tainted the memory of their last day riding together, forever destined to be remembered with the vignette of this agony running through her right now.
But the show goes on.
“Wait—just wait.” She needs to bolster the lie, make it airtight, so he never sees through this. Ever. He can’t, not now. She echoes his earlier words back to him with a smug tone, like it was all part of her plan. The memory feels miles away, like there’s a chasm between her and the past version of her that didn’t know the truth. “Lie to your face, check. Make you think I’ve fallen for you, double check. Oh, and stab you in the back when you think we’re best friends, triple check. Look me in the face—”
“Nope.” He cuts her off, shaking his head immediately.
He won’t even look at her. Was the possibility that her feelings could have been real just that repulsive to him? Can he not even bear to meet her eyes because the words dared to leave her lips?
“—and tell me you don’t think I have the killer instinct to do undercover work. Look me in my face.” She tries to sneer it, to school her tone so it doesn’t come out begging, but she now just wants him to look at her. She wants to see his eyes and be able to truly believe that he doesn’t hate her.
Defeat washes over her and she sits back in her seat, watching the city fly past the window.
“It’s weird now, isn’t it?” she murmurs, unable to truly mask the despair in her voice.
“Nope.”
“I was just… making a point.”
Tim’s voice softens with pity. “And you’re undermining it by feeling guilty.”
Oh, you have no idea.
Still clutching the now-crumpled checklist in her hand, Lucy glances down at it, catching a glimpse of the final line beneath the folds.
Step 5: Acceptance
Lucy knows it could take her a whole lifetime of cycling through this stupid checklist before she ever ‘accepts’ this outcome.