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Three days.
Lucy’s spent the last three days waiting for Tim to call, or text, or hunt her down during shift changeover, the couple minutes they’re actually in the station at the same time. But she hasn’t so much as spotted him waiting for the elevator, or glimpsed the three dots in their text chain.
At this point, it feels like he’s actively avoiding her.
Sure, she’d fallen asleep on him while he was trying to talk about them, but it had seemed like he’d wanted to finally cross the bridge he’s been working to mend. When she’d woken up a few hours later under a blanket that had definitely been over on the armchair before, realising what she’d done, she was expecting he’d call or text so they could reschedule their talk.
But no—it’s been radio silent. The only communication she’s gotten was the small sticky note with Tim’s familiar block-capital scrawl on her kitchen counter, telling her to enjoy the food he’d packed up into organised containers. No further mention of them, or whatever it is that we’ve been doing.
It’s almost like he’s having second thoughts.
Now, Lucy knows that’s probably not the case, but it’s hard not to keep returning to that idea when the days feel like they’re dragging on forever. Her current work schedule doesn’t help, with time seeming to do its own thing on the night shift, hours passing whenever they want to, days and nights turned upside down. She’s still in the adjustment period, and right now Lucy barely knows which way is up.
The only certainty that it hasn’t been that long since they tried to talk comes from the fact that the food Tim cooked for her hasn’t run out yet—although, there was a lot of it, so it’s probably not the most accurate measure.
But it’s already been three days of waiting. And now they’re on this op with the FBI, and it’s probably going to continue to eat up their time with the ensuing reports and paperwork and debriefs, and before she knows it, it’s going to have been a week since Tim wanted to talk, and she’s going to keep spiralling further into the pit of why hasn’t he called?
She drags herself out of her spiral when she walks up to Celina’s car with coffee, climbing in and forcing herself to get her head in the game. Her roommate fills her in on where their suspects have set up shop, that the raid’s starting in 30, and that… Tim needs her in the surveillance van.
“Sergeant business,” she says.
Great.
This is the first time she’s talking to Tim in three days, and there’s going to be an elephant stood in on their conversation when they’re supposed to be focusing on work. This isn’t exactly the way she’d imagined things would go when she saw his face again.
But when she approaches the surveillance van, Tim is climbing out, his footsteps slowing to a stop when he sees her. He looks… surprised?
“What’s going on?” she asks.
He blows out an exasperated exhale. “Angela and your roommate have too much free time.”
“Oh.” So he hadn’t even wanted to talk to her. “They wanted to get us alone.”
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
Like she hasn’t been waiting to be alone with him for days.
“No, it’s fine.” If he’s not going to do it, she will. “I mean, they’re right; we do need to talk.”
As she says it, part of her wonders if he’s going to use the op as an out. It wouldn’t be completely unreasonable, nor would it be out of character for him. But to her surprise, Tim guides her away from the surveillance van, towards a secluded spot out by the water.
The sun is just beginning to come up over the horizon, the water glowing with light.
“Well, I guess I should start by apologising,” he says.
“Strongly agree. It’s been, like, three days.”
Tim deflates. “I know,” he sighs. “I should’ve called sooner. I just—I was scared.”
Despite her frustration, Lucy gets it. The same fear has crossed her mind, too. “What if we get back together and it’s not like it was before?”
“Even worse,” Tim says, “what if you realise you don’t love the new, less-toxic me?”
Her heart pulls at the thought that he could see that as a possibility, as if him being content and somewhat at peace with himself for the first time in his life could ever drive her away.
“Trust me,” she assures him, “becoming emotionally healthier, that—that is—that’s a turn-on, not the opposite.”
Even with his soft smile, Tim’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “So you’re not worried?”
“Of course I’m worried.”
As the words leave her lips, Lucy’s mind flickers with a memory.
It’s a moment not unlike this one—just her and Tim, finally confronting everything they’ve been scared to face—only, instead of the glow of the sunrise, three years ago they were surrounded by flowers and the weight of the unknown.
Of course I’m scared, she’d said. If we do this and it doesn’t work, I’ll have ruined the most important relationship in my life.
It’s crazy how that still stands true even now, that her fear of ruining this still runs deep—because, despite everything they’ve been through, despite every second of heartache, this is still the most important relationship in her life. That’s never wavered, not for a single moment.
At the resonance of that memory through her soul, Lucy realises something.
Even through all of this, there was no part of her that ever thought that it ‘didn’t work’, that they ‘didn’t work’, that the breakup was a sign that they’d tried and failed. Somewhere deep down, she’s always known this was a temporary break in their journey. They were always going to find their way to this moment, back to each other. There was never going to be anyone else.
“You broke my heart,” she continues, because she needs him to look that truth in the eye before they take another step. But as she watches his face fall, Lucy knows he’s torn himself up over it enough, and can’t help but joke to lessen the weight of it: “The scar is so deep, it might never fade.”
She keeps her tone melodramatic and light, and Tim’s smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
“But, you know, I’m hoping that it’ll make us stronger,” she continues. “You know, we both know what we lost. Hopefully we’ll fight to make it work.”
She knows they will. When they get this back, she’s holding onto it with everything she has.
“We will,” Tim agrees, no trace of doubt in his voice as he steps forward. “I love you.”
It’s the first time she’s heard him say it since the wildfire—and this time, there’s no fear in it. It’s not a panicked confession, something he’s terrified she doesn’t know anymore; it’s a reminder of something that he’s never stopped proving to her, time and time again.
He’s never not loved her, she knows that, but she didn’t realise how much she’d missed the way his voice carries the promise all the same, the way the phrase comes so easily but with such gravity, like he’s never meant anything more.
And now, it’s going to be the first of many, the first of forever. Because she’s not letting go of this.
“I love you, too.”
It’s not until she watches him take that in and treasure it that she realises he hasn’t heard her say those words since before.
She silently resolves to keep saying it enough to make up for lost time—but right now, she doesn’t want to waste another second. “Okay, now… ask me out.”
Tim’s face changes in a way she doesn’t understand. “No, no, no, I—I actually wasn’t, um, going to ask you out.”
For a second, Lucy’s heart sinks, because what the hell are they doing here, then? There’s no way she read this all wrong, right?
But then Tim’s taking a slow, deep breath, and Lucy knows she has nothing to worry about, finding herself back in the past again.
Tim has the same look in his eyes as he did in the parking lot, nervous yet hopeful, like he’s about to take a leap of faith. She knows that he loves her just as much now as he did back then, that this moment is just as important for them, whatever it is that he’s about to say.
It’s not worth the risk.
Unless it is?
They’d both jumped headfirst, and it had been worth everything. Months of light and love and happiness that she was convinced would last forever.
Until Tim hit the ground, hard, taking her down with him, and Lucy spent months thinking that she’d been right, that none of that joy was worth the agony she felt after having it ripped away. That it wasn’t worth how much they were both hurting in the aftermath, how much it ached to see his face or work alongside him.
But they’ve taken the time to work their way back, step by step, and Lucy knows now—it’s always been worth it, every bit of it, even the parts that ached. Now, they know the value of what they have, and how much it fucking hurts to lose it, and neither of them are ever letting go again.
Do you want to get dinner, sometime?
That beginning feels like forever ago, and like yesterday at the same time. And now she’s standing in front of their new beginning, whatever shape it might be about to take.
Even though she’s braced for the possibility of anything, Tim’s words still take her by surprise.
“I want to ask you to move in with me,” he says, taking a step forward. “I’ve spent enough nights without you that I want you all the way in my life.”
Oh.
A bigger step forward than she’d thought. Starting over with another risk, in a way. It’s kind of fitting.
Lucy doesn’t need to think about her answer, not for a single moment, because she feels the same way Tim does. They’ve spent too long apart, endured too many awful nights filled with nothing but cold, empty quiet, and she can’t bear the thought of doing that again when she has him back.
Yeah, maybe this is another risk. But it was worth it back then, and it’s worth it now.
She might not need to consider her answer, but part of her can’t help but take the opportunity to tease Tim a little, to get back at him for that split second of free fall when she didn’t know where they were headed.
“Is that right?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She waits, watches him grow nervous in that endearing way he tries so hard to hide.
“So is—is that a yes?”
“Oh, God,” she mutters, taking another step and closing the gap between them. The sunlight shifts in his eyes, illuminating oceans of blue she’s all too willing to get lost in, and Lucy knows she’s making the right choice—but it doesn’t hurt to be absolutely certain. “Do you promise to be a better communicator?”
He nods, and it’s intense with conviction. “Oh, yes. I mean, I promise to be the best communicator. Not a single thought that I will keep to myself—”
God, she forgot how much he can talk when he’s nervous. She just wants to kiss him already.
“Shh.”
“—ever.”
Her gaze flitting to his lips, Lucy pulls at his lapels in a plea to get his rambling to quiet.
“Just say ‘yes’, please.”
His gaze softens impossibly. “Yes.”
With that promise, Lucy doesn’t waste another second, pulling him in.
The moment their lips meet, it’s like the world clicks back into place, everything righting itself for the first time in months.
Lucy does her best to memorise every piece of it—Tim’s heart pounding beneath her palm, his hands steady around her waist, the warmth of the sun as it rises over their new beginning.
It’s like something out of a movie.