Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Lucy's cursor hovered over the link.

LAPD ANONYMOUS INTERNAL MAIL EXCHANGE

She'd been waiting a total of four months of her training to gain access to AIME(not that she was counting or anything) and now that she had only one month left to go at the academy she was suddenly scared.

According to Jackson, it was a good way to branch out especially as a rookie, as the lowest of the low, no one gives a crap about you. It was anonymous of course so you couldn't really make friends but you could talk police work, and that was something that Lucy had wanted to do nonstop ever since signing up for the academy.

It wasn't mandatory or a requirement to complete their training, which meant that everyone on there wanted to be there, they were just as eager as her to interact, which was why she was so confused at her sudden hesitation.

She had wanted so desperately to make an account, so why didn't she just click the link?

The screen illuminated the darkness of her apartment.

What if no one wanted to be her friend?

What if she said something stupid?

Oh god, what if she said something stupid and got cancelled?

Could you even get cancelled on a police forum?

Did they arrest you for that? Surely not.

That's enough Lucy, she chided, clicking the link before she could throw her laptop to the other side of the room.

The site loaded and she plugged in her details before reaching the final step of creating a username. To adhere to the rules of the site, it couldn't be traced back to you, sure the department knew who everyone was but she couldn't just name herself Lucy_Chen. Now that was how you ended up cancelled, they'd probably boot you off the site for that.

It was called AIME for a reason, not IME, they had real emails for that, she just had to come up with the perfect pseudonym that wasn't the auto-generated trash that first popped up.

calmcobra79 was not the type of username she wanted to be branded by.

How cheesy was that?

She needed something that said I'm cool and funny and the best officer you could talk to in the history of ever. Not that she even had a badge, yet.

This was psyching her out way too much for something that was supposed to be a menial task.

Psychedout?

Was that too boring?

To add some spice she swapped out a letter for a number.

Psyched0ut

Pursing her lips, Lucy typed it in, surely it couldn't get worse than calmcobra79.

A loading symbol popped up on the screen before it gave way to paradise, or paradise to one of the most eager soon to be rookies in 2019.

Welcome, Psyched0ut!

Cute layout, she thought, eyes scanning the LAPD blue banner at the top holding a multitude of drop-down boxes and tabs that she had all the time on the word to explore later.

It was well past midnight and the academy would beat her ass if she was late and at this stage in their training maybe they'd even remove her from the program entirely. Her mind wandered back to Higgins - the first recruit to drop their class from 26 to 25 members because he was fourteen seconds late on the first day.

She was determined not to follow in his footsteps. Setting her computer aside she went to stand up when her laptop blasted at full volume, 'YOU'VE GOT MAIL!' causing her to trip and fall flat on the floor, leg colliding with the table on the way down.

"What. The. Actual. Fuck." she growled like she hadn't just jumped out of her skin, before cradling her leg.

Who creates a website that looks all pretty and retro that shouts at you when you've got mail? She was going to talk to whoever designed this website and give them a piece of her mind - she could've died.

Pressing her palm to where the table had imprinted itself onto her shin, she sat up trying not to think about how a bruise the colour of a blueberry and the size of a banana would appear on her leg tomorrow.

Despite the sting from where her body had collided with the floor, she narrowed her eyes up to where her screen lay and finally read a username that was worse than hers.

Friend Request: BeastoftheEAST

BeastoftheEAST: 1 New Mail

The only person in the world let alone the LAPD that would've sent her a friend request so fast and had that god awful username was none other than golden boy Jackson West.

She only opened his message the next morning, her volume double and triple checked to be at zero.

She had to admit she giggled a little at this one, he'd probably be disgusted at this answer.

But when she glanced at the clock she shot out of her room, she was not going to become the second cautionary tale.

˗ˏˋ ︵‿⋆୨ ✉︎ ୧⋆‿︵ ˎˊ˗

Tim had seen the smirk deepen across Angela's face when she'd typed in his username: EagleEyes.

He'd frowned but she merely responded with a shrug, 'It's a throwback," she teased, clicking submit before he'd even had a chance to argue.

Welcome, EagleEyes!

"I don't need this app-"

"Mailing Website," Angela corrected, leaning over his desk navigating the site like it was second nature.

"Website," he continued, irritation evident across his face, "I really don't understand why you forced me to make an account."

She clicked through the tabs doing whatever she pleased, not that he cared enough to stop her. It's not as if he'd use it once she set it up.

"You know people say the anonymity helps people open up," she hummed, attention placed solely on the monitor in front of them.

"Open up?"

Her hand stilled for a second, "You heard me."

Tim's eyebrow shot up, "So you're signing me up for LAPD therapy hoping some poor officer hears my cries through anonymous mail?"

"Zip your lips for one second, Bradford, I'm doing you a favour," she replied, still not acknowledging his presence.

He wanted nothing more than to go home, he didn't have time to fumble his way through some LAPD communication system, he wasn't technologically gifted. The closest he came to technologically gifted was an AK-47. Tim Bradford didn't do technology period.

Despite these facts, Angela had gone and set up an account on the mail exchange so that he could 'connect' with other officers since she believes that he 'has trouble doing that in real life.'

If it were anyone else who said that to him they'd have been scrubbing the drunk tank since yesterday.

As he stretched his legs out under the desk he watched her change settings and set up pages that he was never going to use. She even picked up his phone for a few minutes.

So much for her effort, he thought before checking his watch. It was time to go home, if he managed to change and leave in ten minutes he might be able to make the soccer match on tonight, but alas Angela Lopez had other plans.

Not even that but she'd gone and set him up with a username that reminded him of Isabel.

God, Isabel. He didn't usually have time to think of her - he made sure of that, sticking to strict routines and pummelling into work, always occupying his time so he didn't break down from wondering whether she'd ever come home.

Whether she was alive at all.

"Okay you're all set," Lopez's voice pulled him out from the spiral he almost slipped down.

He watched, eyes vacant as she explained.

"Here's the chat function, the questions function, this is where you go to make friend requests and oh uh you probably won't use this one so don't worry oh and this is the main server."

"Uhh thanks I guess?"

She turned to him, mouth agape, "You guess?!? I do you the biggest favour of your lifetime and you say 'thanks I guess?!?'"

His mouth ran dry, "It's not classified as a favour when I didn't want it in the first place."

"You better have at least one friend by tomorrow, which shouldn't be too hard considering it's almost recruit season," Angela smiled at the sudden horror flashing across his face as she disappeared into the locker room.

She'd signed him up during recruit season?

It's almost like she wanted him to hate her for the rest of his life.

Quickly packing up his desk so no uninvited thoughts could sneak through, he hurried to race home, if he pushed it he could make it before the game began.

Flicking on the TV he forced himself to focus, no distractions, and he was successful until his phone caused carnage.

'YOU'VE GOT MAIL!'

His hand shot to where his duty piece would usually be on his hip as he jolted up like he was ready to face whatever suspect was thrown his way.

What had Angela signed him up for?

The notifications came through one after the other, and not on his LAPD issued phone.

Friend Request: Psyched0ut

Psyched0ut: 12 New Mail

Who in the whole of the Los Angeles Police Department was sending him 12 messages at 1 am?

˗ˏˋ ︵‿⋆୨ ✉︎ ୧⋆‿︵ ˎˊ˗

Lucy was so getting cancelled.

She had sent some random officer twelve, TWELVE, messages at 1 am. A fully fledged officer, with a badge and gun, who patrolled the streets daily, she could've sent these messages to a Sergeant, a Watch Commander, Lieutenant, a Captain. Her career was over.

Who had even let her sign up of her own free will?

Her, Lucy Chen, queen of rambling, indecision and ending up in spaces she was most definitely not supposed to be in, for example, the E-mails of a random Officer.

Head in her hands, her fingers worked at her scalp to try to find some clarity.

"Can you take the E-mails back?" Nolan asked, walking off the laps they'd just run.

Next to her Jackson rolled his eyes, "You can't just take E-mails back, Gramps"

"Technically you should call me father 'cause I'm not a grandfather yet," shot Nolan.

A chuckle escaped her lips, "You're not a priest either."

The smile on John's face formed a thin line.

"Anyway, not the point," Lucy redirected the conversation to the problem at hand, "Do you guys think the department is gonna come after me?"

Jackson dropped down next to her on the bench, chest still heaving from the run they'd just finished. She herself was still dripping with sweat and the prospect of an incoming headache from her past mailing mishap did not seem pleasant.

Jackson thought about it for a second before turning to her, "No-" part of her eased inside before he delivered the final blow, "-t immediately."

The door that had eased inside of her slammed shut. Who was she kidding? You don't just email a potential future workmate, scratch that, boss, and get away with it.

"Did they reply, at least?" Nolan asked, finally taking a seat beside them.

"No," she sighed, head falling back into her palms. It had been two days of radio silence, unnerving anxiety and a very big sign above her head that read, 'Idiot'.

The only very minor plus side to this was that she was anonymous, who was EagleEyes going to tell anyway?

She'd hoped(and prayed) that she'd messaged an inactive account, someone who'd made an account and gotten sick of AIME and left, or someone who had left the force and changed careers, she'd even settle for someone who was on an undercover op and therefore had not received her E-mails and henceforth could not answer her messages as of right now.

Maybe if she figured out a way to block people...

"Lucy I'm sure it's fine, it probably happens all the time," consoled Jackson.

"Yeah, not to me," she replied, dead serious.

"At least they don't know it's you," Nolan offered, and it was solid advice, that was, if you didn't constantly freak out and psychoanalyse every interaction you had ever. And she had been analysing, for two whole days.

Because for some reason she felt like the moment she locked eyes with the person whose night she'd ruined would immediately see her and yell 'this is the girl who sent me 12 messages at 1am. Arrest her!!' where she'd be contained in holding her first day as a rookie.

Despite her disagreement, Lucy offered her own small smile back in response.

"Recruits!" Officer O'Reilly, their designated physical education trainer boomed down the track as the three of them shot up immediately.

"Yes, Ma'am." They cried moving to gather closer, there was nothing like a Drill Sergeant to snap you right back into the present.

"This is your one and only reminder that your Physical Ed exams both practical and theory will be held next week on Tuesday the 13th from 11am - 6pm. Usual classes and sessions for the week are cancelled so you have no reason to be late."

This was it, the end game before they graduated and were officially funnelled into the FTO program. Her fellow classmates scrambled to note down the date and time somewhere whereas she already knew it by heart. It had been written in her diary ever since the exam timetable was released, labelled with a basketball sticker and four exclamation marks even though it had nothing to do with basketball.

"Yes, Ma'am," the group chanted again before they were dismissed for the night.

Wrangling her gear into the passenger seat of her Datsun, Lucy all but collapsed into the drivers seat before her phone buzzed with those three words.

'You've Got Mail!'

It almost sounded pleasant, a stark contrast to the first fluke that had sent her flying. She almost ignored it, it was probably Jackson sending her some policing meme from his own car but curiosity of the better of her.

EagleEyes: 1 New Mail

They do say that curiosity killed the cat, or even in this case, the cats career.

Lucy's car felt suddenly warmer as the smallest sheen of moisture made its way across her forehead, she was never showing her face in public after this.

Her thumb hovered over the Read Mail button, she could be about to open her letter of removal from the academy right now.

She opened it to nine words instead.

Across the city, Tim didn't know why he was responding after two days of passively ignoring the 12 messages, but maybe he'd been possessed by the spirit of Angela. Or maybe he just needed something to distract himself.

The person on the other end typed out a reply and he cautiously watched it blink up on his screen.

He'd had the day off, forced to by Grey in the hope that he'd relax. If you knew Tim Bradford at all, you knew that he hadn't relaxed since age nine, one day wouldn't change that.

His cursor raced across his screen.

The reply button stared at him, was this too plain? Too predictable? He wasn't accustomed to second guessing his responses, especially to someone he did not know and the uneasy feeling unfurled in his chest.

He sent it anyway.

Tim's eyes glanced around his house as he awaited a reply, neighbourhood dogs barked into the night, cars drove past, his refrigerator hummed, the clock ticked as minute after minute passed.

The day off had provided him with plenty of time to knock chores off the list that had been sitting in backlog for weeks.

1. Fix the backyard tap so it doesn't drip

2. Relocate dresser to the spare room

3. Pack contents of the dresser into boxes to store into garage

What the list failed to mention was that the dresser he was relocating used to be Isabel's. He wasn't moving on, that's not what he was trying to do(or what he told himself that he was trying not to do), he was just creating space.

Space. Isabel had made it clear that she didn't want him in her space and it was more than time to dissect her from his space at home(though not the space in his heart). His jaw hardened, he just had to grow up and admit to himself that she was never coming back, that it had just been another person who didn't want to stay, no matter how much of himself he offered. He just wasn't enough, maybe he had never been.

Maybe that's what he found curious about the anonymity of this mail exchange website, that if they didn't know it was him, they couldn't leave him with that in mind. That they wouldn't be leaving Tim Bradford but an anonymous Officer, he had no need to put the fear of Bradford in them or drown them in endless love, he just had to be himself: something he considered a luxury due to his past.

He really needed hobbies besides up keeping his house and waiting for some stranger to text him back.

An itch curled up his neck as his eyes flicked over to his laptop, Psyched0ut hadn't replied in 40 minutes and it was driving him mad.

Had his response been that bad?

He wasn't an amateur.

Maybe it was time to go to bed, there was no point in staying up if he was just gonna think about Isabel. Him staying up late and thoughts about her we're always a lethal combination, one time he even had to call Angela to calm down - a moment he was not proud of in the slightest.

Just as he was about to relocate to his bedroom three words chimed as a notification slid across his screen.

Something he couldn't name flashed through his body at the word Officer. Whoever was texting him was feisty(or desperate to prove themselves, he couldn't tell which one though).

Tim quickly switched tabs.

BTW is an abbreviation for by the way.

Lucy stared at the reply. You're okay, and to be honest I was surprised that I replied myself.

She had been bolder than she'd liked, not to mention the Officer comment - it had been borderline flirty that's what it was. Not to mention that this could be a man, woman, person in her chain of command, not that it mattered really, unless she said something reportable they'd never know who she was. And maybe she was walking on a tightrope - a dangerous fall either way but she just needed an out after a long day. Sessions with O'Reilly were no joke.

The reassurance that her 1am wake up call had been shoved under the rug crumbled whatever anxiety tower she had been building as time passed.

He knew the real answer but it was too raw for an online conversation with a stranger. He couldn't exactly say 'I was hoping you'd reply so I didn't have to think about my wife who may or may not be dead, nice to meet you though!'

Lucy rolled her eyes.

It was the over eager nature that had clued Tim in, like a fizzy drink can that had just been shaken and opened - an endless source of energy that had yet to be moulded, hardened by what they came across in day to day life.

If this was Captain Anderson he was handing in his badge and gun tomorrow morning.

The three dots flickered on and off across his screen as the person on the other end of the line typed, erased and typed again. Maybe he had been too harsh, Angela and Isabel always said he was.

Tim sat, waiting, what were they, K9? Detective? Surely it couldn't be that bad.

Oh.