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Time alone doesn’t heal wounds. Sure, the fragility fades, but the overwhelming fear never truly does. It just quietens down, creeping up on you when you least expect it. Being buried alive by a serial killer does that to you, especially when the smug bastard left Lucy with a reminder inked permanently into her side. She still had her bad days, where the phantom pains of the needle stabbing ink into her skin feel so real, and everything starts to feel suffocating. Days where she just can’t seem to breathe, days where she’s stuck in that barrel all over again. The mind is a torturous, evil thing. Caleb was dead, yet he lived in her head, tormenting her every so often, as if he was taunting her from hell.
Some days, Lucy just needed to let go. To feel like the person she used to be before her naiveté was ruined for a sick man’s entertainment, before her concept of safety and trust was altered forever. Back in her rookie days, when the night terrors came, she would curl up under layers of blankets and let the weight of them anchor her while conjuring up fantasies of being comforted in her mother’s arms until she fell back asleep. Later when she would wake again, she’d scoff at the irony of seeking comfort in someone who wanted nothing to do with her anymore, who only saw her as a disappointment.
Then, she found her safety in the arms of the one and only Tim Bradford, who would whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she shook with sobs in his embrace, who would take care of her so gently and thoroughly that she could shut her brain off and let herself be loved.
They were sitting on the couch in their home, the living room dimly lit with candles as a sitcom played on the TV. As the night wore on, Lucy had inched closer and closer to Tim until they were practically intertwined. It had been a rough week, with cases that left them slouched over a desk doing extensive paperwork hours after their shifts ended. They barely got the chance to spend time together except for the short lunch breaks they shared in the company of their coworkers, leading to Lucy feeling just a tad bit clingier than she’d admit. Tim played with her hair gently as she laid her head in his lap, humming contentedly every so often. The floaty, fuzzy feeling washed over her in a gentle wave as the buzz of the TV faded into the background and she relished in the safety of his touch.
“You falling asleep on me, Luce?” He murmured, noticing the subtle change—of course he did, he noticed everything about her.
“Nuh-uh,” her voice was barely above a whisper and just the slightest bit higher than usual. “Not asleep,” she had insisted with little conviction as she buried her face into his shirt.
“C’mon, let’s go to bed, baby,” Tim said softly with a gentle kiss to her head.
Lucy hummed in acknowledgment but made no effort to move whatsoever, nuzzling herself impossibly further into him, which earned her a chuckle from Tim. He ran his fingers through her hair a few more times and lifted her head up towards him gently.
“Want me to carry you?” He asked softly, gazing into her bleary doe-like eyes that blinked up at him.
“Mhm,” she murmured, already wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning even further into him.
Tim cradled her gently and picked her up with ease, letting her wrap her legs around him as he stood from the couch. She held onto him tight, like a koala, as he carried her towards the bathroom and sat her down on the sink countertop. He grabbed her toothbrush and squeezed a decent amount of toothpaste on it before angling it towards her mouth. Lucy’s mouth opened lazily, giving him access before he even asked if she wanted his help.
He made quick work of brushing her teeth and guided her closer to the basin to spit the toothpaste out. Lucy managed a shy, grateful smile as he started picking up his own toothbrush. She sat quietly on the counter, blinking sleepily as she watched him brush his own teeth.
“All done,” he said, turning back towards Lucy and opening his arms out in a silent invitation, which she accepted eagerly. She wrapped her arms back around his neck and slid down the counter, shifting her weight onto him. Once Lucy was securely in his arms, he lifted her towards the bedroom, setting her down on her side of the bed gently. She whined softly at the loss as he moved away to turn the lights off in the room.
Tim climbed into the bed beside her and she wasted no time before she was sprawled all over him again.
“Thank you,” she said, the words coming out muffled as her face was buried in his chest.
He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, he ran his fingers through her locks and pressed a kiss to her head, to which Lucy let out a contented sound. Tim thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way; he loves taking care of her. He loves her. Within minutes she was already fast asleep, snoring softly in the place she felt the safest — his arms.
He wished he could take a picture of this moment and lock it in his heart forever. He knew trauma all too well, he knew how hard it was to trust someone after, especially with everything Lucy had been through, and her trust in him meant more than he could ever put into words. It healed a part of him too, the subconscious part of him that always feared that he would turn out like his father one day; the fact that she was so comfortable being vulnerable and just trusted him to take care of her made warmth spread from his chest to his fingertips. God, he loved this girl so much.
He hugged her closer and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off too, with her warmth lulling him into a peaceful sleep.