Work Text:
The station was unusually quiet this morning. Too quiet for Tim's liking. Most of the main area looked completely deserted, and sure, it was early, but usually people would be walking around, taking care of early reports, making coffee, or talking with colleagues. Today none of that seemed to be the case.
“Where is everyone?” He muttered under his breath, annoyed at the prospect of having to search for his officers. It took him a while but eventually he found a small crowd of people gathered in front of something.
“Don’t you all have better things to do?” He barked, and the crowd started to part.
The looks were the first thing Tim noticed. Jaws that tightened, eyes that shone with sympathy or disgust.
One of the people standing there was Lucy.
“Tim?” She croaked, “I… I don’t think you want to see this." The second thing he noticed was the poster stuck to the wall.
He pushed past her, taking a closer look. His heart rate spiked like it hadn’t done in a while, as dread clawed its way up his throat.
For a while Tim didn’t register anything around him as he stared at the poster.
He stood there, speechless and unable to say literally anything. The world felt like it was closing in around him. Hundreds of eyes were watching him, no correction, staring at him. He clenched his fists, eyes drilling into the black and white ink of the writing.
How? How the fuck did anyone find out? How? How? How?
His eyes started filling with tears as he blinked rapidly to stop them from falling. This couldn’t be happening to him. It just couldn’t. The world was spinning at breakneck speed around him, making his head dizzy.
‘TIM BRADFORD IS TRANSGENDER???’ The poster read in bold letters, and right beneath it were two pictures. One of him now, and the other one of a girl around 15, with long hair and a dress. A girl that had the same face as him, because that was who he used to be.
His breath came in short. He couldn't stay here any longer. He needed to leave. He grabbed the poster and tore it down, then he turned and wordlessly walked away.
“Hey, Tim, wait!” Lucy’s voice rang distantly, but he ignored her.
He couldn’t bear the looks any longer. Tim’s feet found their way to his office; on his way, he bumped into John but ignored his boyfriend's stammered apology. He closed the door behind himself and sank onto the sofa. Thankfully the blinds were closed already.
Shit, shit, shit.
No one was ever supposed to know. How did they find out? He had been so careful to not let anyone find out. The only person that knew was John, and he never would have told anyone, would he? No, that wasn’t like him. Somebody must have figured it out one way or another. Where did they even get that picture from? It was supposed to be hidden, buried forever, so that no one would ever find it. He crumpled the poster in his hand. His heart felt like it would break out of his ribs.
Tim knew he was trans when he was five years old. He didn’t have the language yet, but he knew who he was.
“I’m not a girl! I'm a boy!” He had yelled over and over again, throwing any dresses away that were handed to him.
“Emma!” His father had yelled back. “Stop that; you’re a girl. You were born as one, and that’s what you’ll always be. Now stop whining and put on that dress.”
His family hadn’t understood him. His father never even bothered. His mom and his sister had tried. It had taken them years to come around with the idea, but by the time puberty hit, they finally started believing him.
They hadn’t allowed him to fully transition. His father had been strictly against everything, refusing to call him his son. His mother had tried for him, but that had only led to countless arguments until Tim had cracked. He couldn’t bear to see it anymore, how the arguments got more and more heated until his father started throwing punches. He pretended to be a girl. He had let his hair grow out and put on dresses again to protect his mother from his father's abuse. His life had been a living hell. Back then he had been close to ending it once and for all. But something, perhaps hope for a better future, had held him back.
Tim’s only escape had been college, where he was finally able to drop the act. Genny had helped him cut his hair when she had found her brother in the bathroom at two in the morning with kitchen scissors in his hand and a bunch of hair on the ground. He had almost cried with relief when she cut it properly and brainstormed names with him. It had taken 2 years to change every document there was and scrub ‘Emma Bradford’ out of existence so he could live. He started seeing a therapist, then an endocrinologist, and getting regular T-shots. Tim had his first surgery at 21. It took ages to get approved, but then it finally was his turn. It was a specific surgery that allowed his scars to be as small as possible. It was called ‘Keyhole’ and had only been a small incision. Today you couldn’t even see them anymore.
By the time he had finished college, not a lot of people would have guessed he was ever anything but a man. His father had been seething, and even though Tim had decided to cut contact, his father never left him. He called him late at night just to yell slurs at him or tried to get him to detransition. He told him he was ‘making a mistake’ and that he should ‘see sense’ and ‘stop this nonsense'. As a last resort to get away from everything, he had joined the army. His father hadn’t called him since, and the last time he saw him, the man was on his deathbed.
By the time he got discharged, 27-year-old Tim was unrecognizable from the girl he left behind. He had his final surgery and joined the LAPD, where no one knew him. It was a fresh start, a new opportunity. He could hide he was trans; nobody would ever have to know. For the first time in his life, he was just ‘Tim’. He could be himself without questions, because there were none about him to begin with. For twenty years he hadn’t told anyone he was trans, except for John.
That was until now. Somebody had found a leak. Somebody had found out what he was and that somebody had deemed it necessary to let everyone know in the most devastating way possible.
His breathing was becoming quicker by the second, and it was getting harder to stop from crying. He drew his legs up to his chest and buried his face between his knees. His heart was pounding in his head, and the room was swimming around him. He didn’t even notice the door creaking open and John slipping inside, until a familiar weight settled next to him.
“Tim?” John began carefully. "What's wrong? Can you breathe?”
Tim shook his head; his entire body was shaking as he drew in shaky breaths and let them back out way too quickly, hiccuping through them.
“Hey, look at me," he said in a soothing tone, and Tim lifted his head, trying to make out John through the tears in his eyes.
“Try to breathe with me, okay?” John began breathing in and counting to three with his fingers; he held it for a short while before exhaling slowly and letting his fingers count down again. Tim tried to copy his breathing, with great difficulty at first, sniffing and breaking his inhales before John finished counting.
“You’re okay. I’m here; no one’s hurting you. Just breathe with me.” he reassured him. With each passing inhale and exhale Tim’s body started relaxing more and more. It took a while before he was able to copy John's breathing but soon he managed. John placed a hand on his back, running it along soothingly. Tim closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of their shared breathing as the stress finally left him. When he felt his legs loosen and slide away from his chest he opened his eyes again.
“Thank you.” He croaked, his voice unsteady. He slumped against his boyfriend, resting his head on his chest and holding him close. John's arms wrapped around him in an instant, like a secure blanket.
“It’s okay. Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, resting his head on Tims.
“They know. Someone found out. They—fuck." His breath quickened again, and he swallowed, opening up his hand and giving the poster to John. John unfolded it, and as he read, his eyes widened disbelievingly.
“That's—Oh, Tim, I’m so sorry. How did they…” John trailed off, frowning. He let the paper fall away and tightened his grip on Tim.
“I don’t know," Tim muttered, trying to keep his voice more steady and tears flowing down his face. “I never wanted anyone to know. This was supposed to be a secret. John, I-” His voice broke off as a muted sob escaped him.
“I know, Tim, I know. You’ll be okay. We’ll get through this together, like we always do, okay?” John tried to reassure him and Tim nodded, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe him.
“How?” he asked, sitting up and letting John’s hands fall away. He searched his gaze waiting for an answer. Tim hated feeling this helpless. He liked being in control and always knowing what to do, but right now his thoughts were completely jumbled. He didn’t have an answer and he hated it. Tim watched as the gears began turning in John's head.
“Well, I suppose that first we need to make it clear to everyone that this wasn't okay. The people need to know that outing someone like that is a really bad idea.” He began. “Then I suppose we’ll try to find whoever did it.” Tim was quiet for a moment, thinking his words over. Would it really be this easy to get back up again and face these people? After they had all seen him practically have a meltdown over being outed?
He still felt raw and exposed. Whoever it was had taken something from him that was supposed to be his decision. What had he ever done to them to ward this kind of reaction? In this state he didn’t feel like he could face anybody, his knees felt uncharacteristically weak and his throat was clogged up. For what felt like the first time he was scared to talk to his officers. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t. Not like this, not when they knew.
“I can’t.” Tim rasped. John took his hand to steady it, Tim hadn’t even noticed he was shaking. Their gazes met and Tim could see the concern flashing in John's eyes.
"Yes, you can. You want to know why I know that?” Tim nodded, unable to speak.
“You are the bravest, most self-sacrificing person I know. You’ve had to face so much shit in your life, and you got back up each and every time, and that's admirable. From the first day on that I have known you, you were never once scared to protect those who needed it. You’ve stepped up for me when no one else would. You’re there for your friends when they need you. Do you remember when Lopez got kidnapped at her wedding? You were one of the first people on that rescue mission. That requires courage. You’re not a coward, Tim. And you’re certainly not going to fall apart because of this. I won’t let that happen. We’re all here for you. I’m here for you and I always will be, no matter what the world throws at us.” Before John could say anything more, Tim shot forward and kissed him, one hand coming up to hold onto his shirt, fisting the material. John gasped, surprised, but returned the kiss, easing into it, with one of his hands on Tim's neck, sliding up to eventually cup his jaw. When they broke apart, Tim rested his forehead against John's.
“Thank you," he whispered, "for everything.”
“Always” John smiled, cheeks flushed.
“Why is this so hard?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.” Tim smiled right back at him; they sat in silence for a while, John's hand running soothingly through Tim's hair. Tim let his eyes flutter closed for a second; his heart had slowed down to an easy rhythm, thumping relaxed in his chest. It matched Johns exactly.
“What if they start seeing me differently?” Tim suddenly broke the silence. Even if he had calmed down considerably, the doubts still crept around his mind. A thousand questions reverberated in his skull, and he only knew one person that could answer them. He pulled away from John's grip and sat back against the sofa.
“Some might see you differently, yeah. But anyone with common sense won’t. And, well, fuck them if they do. You’re still the same person you were yesterday, and if they start having a problem with you now just because you’re trans, then that’s on them.”
“It's not that easy though, is it? I can’t just say ‘fuck them’ because I’ll still have to work with them.” Tim countered.
“You’re right, but you’re still their sergeant in this scenario. If someone tries to harass you, report them. You’re not powerless, Tim. You never were. It’s not your fault if they don’t want to work with you. That’s on them, not you.” Tim nodded and sighed. John was right, but he was also idealistic. Some harassments don’t happen physically. Some aren’t even considered harassment but simply microaggressions.
In Tim’s experience being trans meant a whole lot of questions. Especially during the beginning of his transition, he had to answer all sorts of questions that ranged from mildly uncomfortable to outright rude. The worst part was that Tim couldn’t even blame them. They were only asking because they were trying to understand, and yet the more he had to answer, the more tired he got.
But he’d always rather answer the questions than receive those very specific reactions. Those that cut deep without meaning to. Once, one of his close friends back then, Jason, hadn’t really reacted at first, just nodded, and that was it. Tim had thought everything was fine, but later on he started noticing subtle things. Whenever they hung out with their friends, Jason would group Tim in with the girls. He called him ‘Tim’ and used the right pronouns, sure, but the way he acted told Tim everything he needed to know. Whenever he did it and Tim called him out on it, Jason would slap his forehead and pretend to be sorry, just to repeat it again the next day. At some point, when it had been almost a year into his transition, Tim had had enough. He’d pulled Jason aside one day and confronted him. That was when Jason had told him that he ‘needed time to adjust' and that ‘biologically speaking’ he was still a woman. He finally got his answer, but at what cost? He hated that phrase ‘biologically speaking.' What did that even mean?
There was so much more to biology than chromosomes. Currently, ‘biologically speaking,' Tim's body was as close to a cis man as it could be. He had had both surgeries; he was on T, and he looked and acted like a typical man would. No one could take that from him.
Did biology even matter at all? He knew he was a man. It had taken him years to figure himself out, but he had, even if it had cost him almost everything.
John always made him feel like the man he was. Even at times, when Tim couldn’t sleep and that sinking feeling set in, John was there. There were times where Tim felt disconnected from everything. He had changed his body so much to fit what he felt like and yet there was still this gap. He wished he had known sooner. He wished he had the experiences men like John had. A childhood that included baseball instead of dresses. Going to prom in a suit. Being born a man. No one could give it to him. It was in the past, where it would stay forever. It wasn’t fair, but things rarely ever were.
When all of these thoughts got too much, John would sit next to him and put a hand on his back, soothingly running it along and reassuring him. Tim wouldn’t call himself insecure or helpless, not anymore, but in those rare moments he could completely and utterly rely on the man he loved.
“I just wish…” Tim trailed off, eyes moving away from John. “I just wish it was my choice to tell people and not theirs.” He could feel John's empathetic gaze on him; his eyes were mixed with something like sorrow and understanding.
“I know. I wished it was your choice too.” He didn’t say anything else and he didn’t need to. There was nothing else to be said. John took his hand in silent understanding and let their fingers brush together. The warmth was grounding and Tim felt his heart flutter in his ribs.
“We should go back outside," Tim breathed out after a beat. “Can’t let them waste the day waiting for rollcall to start and I have some words for them," he grimaced. He had calmed down enough for anger to finally set in. John nodded and got up, offering a hand that Tim took.
“I’ll leave you alone for a few minutes so you can think of what to say.” John patted his shoulder reassuringly, then he turned and left the office. Before he was completely gone Tim stopped him.
“John?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He smiled and then he was actually gone. Tim breathed out heavily and started pacing. He already had an idea what to say; he just needed a moment to collect himself.
“… and that concludes it for today, but before I send you off, I have something important to address.” Tim took a deep breath; his gaze momentarily met John’s before he looked away again. “As some of you might have seen this morning, I’m trans. This might be a shock to some of you, but I'm not afraid to say who I am. If any of you have a problem with that, I don't care.” He began. “What I do care about however is that someone outed me. Whoever had this bright idea, I swear to God that I will find out who you are. It is never under any circumstances ever okay to do that to someone. This was my choice, not yours. I am telling you now that I don’t support any of this kind of disgusting behavior. If you think outing someone like this is okay, then something is seriously wrong with you, and I wouldn’t be proud to call you one of my officers.” With each sentence his voice got louder as the anger began running through him. “I cannot fathom the idiocy needed to even consider doing this to someone. I don’t know who you are, but there is not one reason in this world that would excuse this course of action. I don’t even know what you wanted to gain from this, but consider my secret destroyed. You took something from me that wasn’t yours to take, and I will never forgive you.” He sighed, pausing for a moment. “Now get moving, everyone; we already lost too much time with this.” He snarled and watched as one after another the stunned officers got out of their seats and started moving.
Some faces were ash-colored, while some seemed more put together. A few muttered their condolences as they passed him. When John walked by him, he whispered a “good job” that only Tim heard. The last to leave was Lucy. She had stayed behind and now approached him. Tim braced himself for a confrontation. Lucy wasn’t the type to be transphobic, but in Tim's experience, you never knew until the person revealed their true colors.
“Can I hug you?” she asked instead, surprising him. There weren’t exactly tears in her eyes, but something close to it. He let her pull him in for a moment, wrapping his arms around his best friend. “I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me. You can always tell me everything, and I’m so sorry I didn’t stand up for you then, when I should have.” She sniffed. “You mean so much to me and I’m proud of you for being brave. Just know that I'll always have your back, okay? No matter what.” Now Tim's eyes were watering too. Damn you, Lucy Chen.
“Thank you," he finally breathed out, his voice shaking again, but this time for a different reason. And because he didn’t know what else to say, "Be safe out there.” She nodded against his chest, chuckling.
“I will.”
Later in his office Tim sat quietly. The world didn’t feel as heavy as it did a few hours ago. Things were thankfully moving slow today, other than him being outed nothing major was happening. He was thankful for the support he had received from his friends and his boyfriend. Some had sent him messages throughout the day expressing their support. No one had sent him anything negative yet. Tim knew that one or two would come in eventually but right now that wasn’t the case. Under his shirt he could still feel his scars, but they didn’t feel as important as they used to. With time, like everything they would fade into non-existence and until then he had his family to support him.