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She was exhausted. The day had taken its toll on her unlike any other. Her mind, a whirlwind of flashbacks… running, her heart pounding, terrified and unable to process what was happening. She'd gone into the tunnel hoping for an escape, yet was met with her worst nightmare. As soon as she had gotten the girl off of her, he attacked. Martin… his name was Martin. Her heart ached with a new hole she didn't know how to fill. She killed him… she killed somebody, she had no choice, he was seconds away from killing her, from driving that knife into her chest. She acted in self defense, did exactly what she was trained to do. And the worst part was he didn't even have control over himself, he wasn't in control, it wasn't even his fault… and now he's gone.
It wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t hers, it just… happened… to her. Her hand came up to brush against her ribs at the memory beginning to surface. Another thing outside of her control that she has, yet again, been left to pick up the pieces for. She knows she had to, to save her life, yet there’s still a deep sense of guilt she couldn’t shake.
It was late, very late. She must have been sitting here for a few hours, just… processing, trying to make sense of it all. I don't know if this is something you ever make sense of though. The push and pull of her brain eventually drawing out into pure exhaustion. Feeling her head start to sway sideways towards the back of the couch, she was reminded of the fact that she had yet to start getting ready for bed, and she did not want to sleep alone tonight.
Slowly, she dragged herself off the couch and made her way down the hallway and into the bathroom, to start getting herself ready for bed. She turned on the lamp on the bathroom counter to avoid having to turn on the bright lights so late at night, and stared blankly into the mirror. Her reflection was an unrecognizable version of herself, so hollowed and drained. As she pulled her eyes away and began to take in her surroundings, she noticed a fresh towel and clean pajamas on the counter that Tim had set out for her, already knowing what she needed before she did. He had left her favorite sleep shorts and another one of his hoodies that are impossibly big and comfortable on her, a clean one that hadn't been all over the station, as to not bring the outside world into their bed.
It was then that she realized just how dirty she really was. She hadn't showered at the station, was too dissociated to try to do anything more than take her bun down into a ponytail and change into the sweatshirt Tim had left her. And now she desperately wanted to get cleaned up after having been all over the floor at Westview, and in the hospital afterwards.
With a deep breath, she turned on the water and stripped off her clothes, tossing them into the hamper. She took down her hair and stepped into the hot water, letting herself release the muscles that she'd been holding tight since they'd gotten that call. As she let her body relax into the heat, she began to break down again, one hand on her chest, the other on her belly, allowing herself to feel and let it flow through her to release. She washed her hair and breathed through it, allowing herself to calm down before stepping out. She wrapped herself in her towel, and begun her nighttime routine, a comforting bit of normalcy after the day she’d had.
_
He had laid in bed awake for over two hours before he heard Lucy make her way to the bathroom and turn the shower on. Seeing her like that had been nothing short of a nightmare. He couldn’t hold her and console her the way he so desperately wanted to. Hearing her little cries broke his heart in a way he never could have begun to imagine it could. But he had to hold himself together. He had to do everything by the book. For the sake of the investigation, for the sake of her career.
In the time he’s been lying awake, he’s been replaying the entire day, that bad feeling he had, how it all went wrong so fast. He wanted to protect her. He tried to protect her. He knows it’s not his fault this happened… but can’t help but wish he had done more to prevent this… to keep her safe. All he wants to do is keep her safe, to protect her, to hold her. But he also knows she needs her space to process in her own way.
_
By the time she comes out of the bathroom all she wants is Tim. To be fully held by him, in the way only he can. As she approaches the bed, he rolls onto his side, facing her, and lifts the covers up on her side of the bed, to invite her in. She slips in and immediately curls into his arms, her head burrowed under his chin. He covers her up with the blankets and wraps his arms around her, one cradling the back of her head, the other gently running up and down her back.
Finally getting to be encased in his warmth and safety she begins to crumble. He feels her shutter before he hears it, the soft little sobs that leave her lips as she slips her arm around him, to hold him impossibly closer to herself, with no plans of ever letting go.
He holds her tighter in return, his heart breaking for the woman in his arms, so small and broken. “I know,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion, barely holding back himself. “I’ve got you,” he says over and over again until she falls asleep, his scent calming her. Because that’s all he can do for her right now, be here for her, hold her completely. He kisses her head, his tears finally falling now that she’s asleep, safe in his arms, blending into her hair that's still wet from the shower. He nuzzles closer into her and breathes her in, so grateful to have her here, at home, in his arms, after a day that could’ve gone so horribly worse. “I’ve got you,” he whispers into her hair, “I’m not letting you go. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” And they’re going to figure it out, together, just like he said he would if this ever happened. He really hoped it wouldn’t, but here they are. So he’ll be here for her, and hold her, until she’s ready to glow again.