Chapter Text
After an eventful night yesterday, and by eventful she means being bent over the toilet half the night retching her guts out, Lucy definitely needed the sun to rise later than it did. The sunlight filtered through her sheer curtains, which she'd fought Tim for when shopping, clearly regretting her choices now, and just once, she'd wished she had listened to her husband and opted for the blackout curtains instead. The golden light spilled across their bedroom in soft waves, painting everything in shades of amber and honey, beautiful but relentless in its insistence that she wake up and face the day.
She smiled despite her exhaustion, looking down at the 200-pound commanding, authoritative man everyone was frightened of at work, wrapped around her like he was afraid she'd slip away from him in the night. He'd become even more protective of her, if that was even possible, ever since they'd found out. One arm was draped possessively across her waist, his hand splayed protectively over her stomach even in sleep, his breath warm and steady against her shoulder. Lucy loved mornings like these, the quiet moments before the world demanded their attention, glad the nausea had stopped overtaking her entire morning for once.
Last night was the first time in four, no, six weeks that she'd thrown up. Although she couldn't blame the baby entirely, she shouldn't have been brave enough to think she could keep her veggie burger down. Her body had been so unpredictable lately, accepting bland crackers one day and rejecting them the next, craving foods she'd never liked before and turning against her old favorites without warning. It was like learning a new language, one her body spoke in waves of nausea and sudden hunger, and she was still struggling to become fluent.
Lucy felt a bit of surprise when she realized the date on her phone, looking back on how quickly the last fourteen weeks had gone by. In her defense, her days were filled with throwing up and eating bland food and being thrown into impossible, time-consuming cases. By the time she'd get home, she couldn't even entertain the thought of doing anything else other than crashing onto the bed and not waking up right until her next shift. The weeks had blurred together in a haze of morning sickness that lasted all day, constant fatigue, and the relentless pace of work that didn't slow down just because she was growing a whole human being inside her.
But now, lying here in the early morning light with Tim's warmth surrounding her, warmth pooled low in her belly, and she couldn't help but smile, knowing they'd come such a long way. She was just glad they were past the miscarriage stage, past those terrifying first twelve weeks when every twinge sent her spiraling. She could lose count, thinking about the times Tim had caught her falling down into a rabbit hole of things that could go wrong during pregnancies, researching every disease even if the odds of them were near zero.
He'd walk up to her every single time, sitting at the kitchen island in the dark, the bright laptop being the only source of light, pulling a chair up and squeezing her hand until she looked at him. "You know nothing's going to happen to either of you, right? I'll make sure, Lucy," he'd say every time, almost frowning, wrinkles creasing his forehead in worry and anxiety. "I'll protect both my girls with every ounce of life in me."
Tim had a feeling they were having a girl, Lucy did too, but she never let it on to him, just playing along each time, secretly loving the way his eyes softened whenever he said "my girls." He'd shut her laptop down and lift her up to carry her to their bedroom and stay up until her breath steadied and she was out like a light.
He could breathe normally again only then, though Lucy didn't know about the nights he lay awake worrying, replaying Dr. Nguyen's words over and over in his mind. "This is more common than you think for women with high risk and high stress jobs like yours. It's nothing to worry about, but I'd still like to keep a close eye on you, especially after last week." Lucy had been on the verge of tears at that point, her fingers tightening around the edge of the examination table as if she needed something solid to hold onto.
Early Preeclampsia. The words had hung in the air between them like a threat, like a promise of complications neither of them wanted to face. Lucy nodded, trying to be brave, trying to be the strong person everyone expected her to be, but inside she was terrified. Their scare last week had happened in the middle of their shift, when she least expected it, when she'd finally started to feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
The memory of it still made her breath catch, even now, safe in their bed with Tim beside her.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Last week
"We should stop for lunch soon," Celina smiled at Lucy, knowing she was probably hungry by now. Everyone had become so overprotective of her in the last few weeks, treating her like she was made of glass. Angela and Nyla gave her new pieces of advice every twenty minutes, everything from prenatal vitamins to baby monitors. Nolan told her to take it easy every day at lunch, his dad instincts in full force.
Never mind mentioning Tim hovering over her every second of the day, she wished she was exaggerating but she really wasn't. It took her four weeks to convince him to let her go pee on her own and another week to get him to stop standing outside the door waiting for her to finish her business, like she needed help to walk five feet from the bathroom to their bed.
Lucy didn't hate it though, not really. She clung to the feeling of being smothered by everyone, being loved till the point of annoyance, feeling grateful for having found the family she never did growing up. The Chens had never been warm, had never hovered or worried or showed affection the way the people at Mid-Wilshire did.
She loved being at work, being in charge, not having someone control every little thing she did so she didn't "overwork" herself. She liked feeling important, doing something other than putting her feet up and watching trashy TV while Tim cleaned up the house and prepared her nightly bath. She loved being on her feet moving about, she hated being stagnant, feeling swampy and useless. Her husband was most definitely not a fan of the calls she took when he'd heard them over the radio, hating that he wasn't out on patrol anymore, unable to rush to her as "backup" the way he used to.
Celina pulled up to one of the food trucks, parking their shop and heading out for lunch. Their faces lit up when they saw Nolan and Penn were already at a table, waving them over. Lucy wasn't sure how the half-hour passed by, engaged in conversation and laughter, when she realized she needed to pee.
This stupid baby, she thought with a mixture of exasperation and affection, she's been making her have to visit the washroom twenty-five times a day. The two officers said their goodbyes and left, and Lucy told her aide to start the shop and that she'd be out in a minute.
She should've known something like this would happen, things had been going too good to be true.
Lucy stared down at her bloody underwear, the sight hitting her like a punch to the gut. Bile rose up in her throat and tears threatened to fall, hot and immediate. "Oh my god, th-this cannot be happening, what the h-hell?" she trembled, her hands shaking so badly she could barely button her pants.
She grabbed at her radio with fumbling hands. "Dispatch, show me 10-6 personal, clock me out, I'll be out the rest of shift." It's gotten my baby and I did this, and it's all my fucking fault, were the only thoughts running through Lucy's head.
She jogged up to her shop, worrying she was too late. "Hey is everything alright, I heard you over the ra—" Celina started, her smile fading the second she saw Lucy's face. She reached closer immediately but Lucy pulled away and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Drive, Shaw Memorial, and please for the love of god, use the fucking sirens," were the only words Lucy could form, her voice breaking on the last word.
Celina, worried out of her mind, stepped on the gas pedal without another word, flipping on the lights and sirens, her hand not leaving Lucy's the entire way there. Lucy watched the streets blur past through tear-filled eyes, every red light they blew through feeling like both an eternity and not fast enough. Her free hand stayed pressed against her stomach, as if she could somehow hold everything together through sheer will, as if her palm against her abdomen could stop whatever was happening inside her body.
Please, she thought desperately, please don't take this from me, please let my baby be okay, I'll do anything, I'll quit work, I'll stay in bed for the rest of the pregnancy, just please. The bargaining started before she even realized she was doing it, making promises to a universe that had never been particularly kind to her, hoping that maybe this time would be different.
Tim somehow pulled up at the same time as Lucy and Celina at the hospital, and Lucy would find out later that he'd been on his way the second Celina had radioed dispatch about their destination, that he'd known without being told that something was wrong, that his wife needed him. He was out of his truck before it fully stopped, rushing to her side the second she stumbled out of the shop.
Lucy collapsed under his touch and wept, all the fear and terror she'd been holding back pouring out of her in great heaving sobs against his chest. "I'm losing the baby," she managed to choke out between sobs, "Tim, I'm losing our baby, there was blood and I—"
"Hey, hey, look at me," Tim said, his voice rough with barely controlled panic, hands cupping her face and tilting it up so she had to meet his eyes. "We don't know that yet, okay? We don't know anything yet. Let's just get you inside, let the doctors check you out."
But Lucy could see the fear in his eyes, could see the way his hands were shaking even as he tried to be strong for her. She'd never seen Tim scared before, not like this, not in a way that made him look almost fragile. He was always the strong one, and seeing him crack made everything feel so much more terrifying.
The emergency room was a blur of fluorescent lights and antiseptic smells and too many questions. Lucy answered on autopilot, giving them her information, explaining what happened, trying to remember when her last period was, what week she was. Tim's hand never left hers, his grip almost painfully tight.
The wait felt endless. They sat in a small examination room, Lucy perched on the edge of the bed in a hospital gown, Tim in the chair beside her, both of them staring at the door. Neither of them spoke much, there was nothing to say that wouldn't make it worse.
"I should've taken desk duty when you asked," Lucy whispered finally, breaking the silence, her voice small and broken. "I should've listened when you said it was too much, when you said I needed to slow down. This is my fault, I did this—"
"Stop," Tim cut her off, his voice fierce, turning in his chair to face her fully. "Lucy, stop. This is not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You hear me? Nothing."
"But I—"
"No," he said firmly, standing up and moving to stand in front of her, his hands on her knees, forcing her to look at him. "I won't let you do this to yourself. Whatever's happening, it's not because you're a sergeant, it's not because you went on patrol. Sometimes things just happen, and it's not fair, and it's not right, but it's not your fault."
Lucy nodded, not because she believed him but because she didn't have the energy to argue. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes, breathing him in, trying to ground herself in this moment.
When Dr. Nguyen finally walked in, Lucy's entire body tensed, bracing for the worst. She couldn't read the doctor's expression, couldn't tell if the news was good or bad.
"Let's take a look," Dr. Nguyen said gently, moving to set up the ultrasound machine.
The gel was cold against her skin, and Lucy held her breath as Dr. Nguyen moved the wand across her belly. Tim's hand tightened around hers, and Lucy realized she couldn't look at the screen, couldn't bear to see it empty.
And then she heard it. The rapid whooshing sound of a heartbeat, strong and steady, filling the room.
"There's your baby," Dr. Nguyen said softly, a small smile on her face. "Heartbeat is strong, 160 beats per minute. Everything looks good."
Lucy's breath left her in a rush, and she started crying again, but this time from relief so overwhelming it felt like it might swallow her whole. Tim's forehead dropped to their joined hands, his shoulders shaking.
"The bleeding?" Lucy managed to ask, her voice hoarse.
"It happens," Dr. Nguyen explained, her tone reassuring. "Especially in the first trimester. It's called subchorionic bleeding, and while it's scary, it's usually not dangerous. I'll want to monitor you closely for the next few weeks, but right now, baby looks perfect."
Lucy couldn't stop staring at the screen, at the tiny flickering heartbeat, at the proof that her baby was still there, still fighting. Tim pressed a kiss to her temple, then another to her cheek, his lips wet with tears. "I told you," he whispered against her skin, "I told you nothing was going to happen to either of you."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Present
Lucy was glad that was behind them now, glad the bleeding had stopped, that the baby had been fine. She couldn't relive those moments again, couldn't let herself remember how she could feel Tim shaking against her touch, worried something had happened to either of them.
He looked so at peace now lying next to her that she could almost forget all the bad moments. She reached out and traced the line of his jaw gently, careful not to wake him.
Tim's eyes fluttered and opened eventually to the gorgeous sight that was his wife, already staring at him with so much love it looked like she could explode any second. He smiled up at her, pulling her into a brief kiss.
"Good morning, love," he murmured against her lips.
Tim pressed a kiss to her belly and said, "Good morning to you too, baby, you gave mom quite a bit of trouble last night, I need you to stop doing that, okay, little one?"
Mom. She was actually someone's mother. It still hadn't hit her yet, not really. It all felt unreal, the baby, her husband, the promotion, everything was too overwhelming, too perfect at the same time.
"Feeling better now?" Tim whispered as he snuggled closer to Lucy and settled his head in the crook of her neck.
She hummed a low vibration in response, her fingers threading through his hair, and allowed herself to soak it all in for just a little longer, to exist in this perfect bubble where nothing could touch them.
The front door clicked shut with a sound that felt louder than it should, echoing through the house in a way Lucy wasn't used to anymore. She stood in the hallway for a second too long, hand still curled around the strap of her purse, listening to the silence settle around her like a blanket. No radio murmuring in the background. No boots being kicked off by the door. No one hovering close enough that she could feel their presence without even turning around.
Tim had left barely ten minutes ago, after insisting—again—that he could come with her, that he didn't mind rearranging his meetings, that she was more important than anything else on his schedule. "It's just a checkup," she'd said, gentle but firm, hands resting over the small, still-growing curve of her stomach. "I promise. I'll text you the second I'm done."
He hadn't looked convinced, his jaw tight with the effort of letting her go, of trusting that she'd be okay without him for a few hours. He never did these days. Still, he'd kissed her forehead, pressed a hand to her belly like he was grounding himself in the reality that they were both still here, still safe, and finally let her go, though she could tell it cost him something to do it.
Now, for the first time in months, the house was just hers. Lucy exhaled slowly, the tension she hadn't realized she was holding loosening its grip on her shoulders, her neck, her chest. It felt strange, being alone, not in a bad way but in an unfamiliar one. Not lonely—just… quiet. Like the world had paused long enough for her to hear herself think again, to exist without someone else's worry pressing in on her from all sides.
She padded toward the bedroom and pulled the curtains shut, softening the sharp morning light until the room felt dim and safe, a cocoon away from the rest of the world. She put on music—something slow and familiar, low enough that it hummed rather than demanded attention—and headed for the bathroom, already anticipating the relief of warm water and solitude.
The tub filled steadily, steam curling up toward the ceiling, the scent of lavender blooming into the air as she poured in more bath soak than strictly necessary, watching the water turn milky and fragrant. When she finally sank into the water, it was like her body remembered how to relax all at once, every muscle unclenching, every worry floating away for just a moment. The warmth seeped into her muscles, easing the dull ache in her back that had become her constant companion, the tightness in her shoulders from too many tense shifts at work.
She closed her eyes, resting a hand over her stomach, thumb brushing absentminded circles through the water, feeling for movement even though she knew it was still too early. For a moment, she let herself just be. Not a sergeant. Not someone's wife. Not a patient with a chart full of notes and cautionary words. Just Lucy, floating in warm water, breathing in time with the music, existing in this perfect, peaceful moment.
Eventually, the water cooled and reality nudged its way back in, gentle but insistent. She got out slowly, wrapping herself in a towel, and moved through the bedroom with unhurried care, still clinging to the peaceful feeling. Her reflection in the mirror caught her off guard for a second, softer, rounder, eyes a little more tired than usual, but there was something else there too. Something warm. Something quietly exciting that hadn't been there before.
She opened the dresser and pulled out clothes she'd set aside the night before. Her soft sweats sat low on her waist, showing off that tiny, barely there bump that she kept checking for in the mirror, trying to convince herself it was real. Lucy wondered why she hasn't started showing yet, wondered why she wasn't gaining any weight, and she worried that if she couldn't keep down her food, it might hurt their baby, might deprive them of something they needed. Lucy shook her head, as if the thoughts would leave just like that, and continued getting ready, refusing to spiral again when she was supposed to be relaxing.
She put her hair in a braid and threw on one of Tim's huge jackets, drowning in the fabric but loving the way it smelled like him, like safety and home. She grabbed her wallet and keys, throwing them into her canvas bag, and headed out into the world, realizing this was the first time she'd stepped out alone in weeks, maybe months.
The sun shone bright on Lucy's face, bringing the promise of a good day, warm but not too hot, perfect California weather. The entire drive to the hospital, Lucy blasted her music to try and forget what the appointment might bring, singing along badly to songs she'd loved in college, letting the familiar melodies drown out the anxious thoughts. There was always a chance of something bad coming up, something wrong on the ultrasound, some complication they hadn't anticipated, and today, she didn't even have her husband to deal with it with her, to hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay.
She paused when a familiar flutter rolled low in her belly, subtle but unmistakable. She smiled without thinking, her hand moving to her stomach instinctively. "Okay," she murmured, more to herself than anything else, "I feel you, no more spiraling."
By the time she pulled into the parking lot, the nervous energy had returned, buzzing faintly under her skin, making her fingers drum against the steering wheel. Not fear—just anticipation. This appointment felt different, even if it was technically routine. Like another small milestone she didn't realize she'd been counting down to, another step closer to meeting this tiny person who'd already turned her entire world upside down.
The waiting room smelled faintly of disinfectant and citrus, artificial but not unpleasant. Lucy checked in, took a seat, and watched other people come and go, pregnant women at various stages, some with partners, some alone like her, all of them existing in this strange liminal space between who they were before and who they were becoming. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, trying to look calmer than she felt.
"Lucy Chen?"
She looked up at the sound of her name, fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag before she pushed herself up from the chair. The nurse smiled warmly, already turning down the hallway, and Lucy followed, shoes scuffing softly against the polished floor, the sound somehow comforting in its normalcy.
The room was familiar by now, she'd been here enough times to memorize the layout. Same muted colors, same faint antiseptic smell softened by something floral from a plugin air freshener. Lucy perched on the edge of the exam table, swinging her legs gently while she waited, hands folded loosely over her stomach, feeling that flutter again and smiling.
Dr. Nguyen knocked once before entering, tablet tucked under her arm, dark hair pulled back neatly in a bun. She smiled when she saw Lucy, warm and genuine. "Good morning," she said, easy and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world. "How are we feeling today?"
Lucy exhaled, the tension she hadn't realized she was carrying easing just a little at the familiar voice. "Okay," she answered honestly. "Tired. A little nauseous again. But… okay."
Dr. Nguyen nodded, making a note on her tablet. "Any dizziness? Headaches? Vision changes?"
"A few headaches," Lucy admitted. "Nothing major. I've been trying to rest more. Tim is… very serious about that."
That earned her a small, knowing smile. "I remember," Dr. Nguyen said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "He came armed with questions last time."
Lucy laughed softly, remembering how Tim had actually brought a written list. "That sounds about right."
They went through the routine, blood pressure cuff tightening around Lucy's arm, the cool touch of the stethoscope against her skin, questions asked gently but thoroughly. Dr. Nguyen never rushed, never made Lucy feel silly for hesitating before answering, for admitting to fears that probably sounded irrational.
"And emotionally?" she asked, looking up from her tablet with genuine concern. "How are you holding up?"
Lucy paused. It was a simple question, but it landed heavier than the rest, settling in her chest like something solid. "I think… better," she said finally. "Some days are harder than others. But I'm excited. Nervous. All of it, I guess."
"That's normal," Dr. Nguyen said kindly. "Especially with everything you've been through so far." She met Lucy's eyes, her expression soft. "You're doing well, Lucy. Truly."
Relief settled low in her chest, warm and reassuring. They moved on to the ultrasound, the lights dimmed, the room quieter now, more intimate. Lucy watched the screen intently, breath hitching just slightly when movement flickered into view, her baby, their baby, real and alive and moving.
Dr. Nguyen talked her through what she was seeing, pointing things out with her pen, reassuring without overdoing it, her voice calm and steady. "Everything looks good," she said after a moment that felt like forever. "Baby's heart rate is strong. Growth is right where we want it."
Lucy swallowed hard, nodding, not trusting her voice. "Okay."
"I do still want you to take it easy," Dr. Nguyen added, gentler now, her tone understanding. "I know that's not your favorite instruction. But it's important. And if anything feels off, even if you're not sure, call me. Don't wait."
"I will," Lucy promised, and she meant it this time, really meant it. She'd learned her lesson.
By the time she was leaving the room, paperwork tucked under her arm and another appointment scheduled for two weeks from now, Lucy felt steadier than she did when she walked in. Not fearless. Just… reassured. Like maybe, just maybe, everything really would be okay.
She pulled out her phone in the hallway, thumbs hovering for a second before she typed, smiling as she imagined Tim's relief.
Everything went well. Dr. Nguyen says we're both good.
She hit send, a small smile tugging at her lips, and headed out into the sunlight, ready to face whatever came next.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________