Chapter Text
It’s been 17 days.
Sometimes, when she closes her eyes, she can still hear it.
Luce! Hold on!
Lucy!
“Lucy?”
She blinks, fingers pulling at the sleeves of her his sweatshirt, pulling the cuffs up over her knuckles. Her nails dig into her palm, feeling the grit still lingering. She lifts her gaze, eyes meeting Nolan’s, then Grey’s, both with looks of concern so deep she wishes she could sink into the floor. Her throat is dry, she realizes.
She can barely swallow.
“We just need to ask you some questions.” Grey begins, hands flat on the metal table between them. “If you need to stop, Chen, just - just say the word.”
She doesn’t speak, nails digging deeper into her palms. Nolan’s hand falls on her arm, and she flinches.
“Lucy.” He starts, his hand falling back to the table between them. “I know this is a lot.” His voice is soft, like one would use with a small child, but she doesn’t have it in her to care. “If you want to do this at another time, we can. Just say the word.”
She watches the two lock eyes as she stays quiet, concern flicking over their features before they both turn back to look at her.
“Lucy.” It’s Grey this time, hand sliding across the table towards her. “Do you need anything? Water?”
Water. She could use water.
She nods, slowly, and Grey disappears for a minute, the door clicking shut behind him. Nolan clears his throat, the sound echoing along the four walls of the interrogation room. “It’s going to be okay.” He says, as if those five little words can take away the last three weeks. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but it will be.”
The door swings open, and her heart soars when she sees Tim standing in the doorway. But she blinks, spotting Grey walking towards her with a bottle of water, and reality washes over her again.
He slides the bottle of water towards her, and it takes her a minute before she reaches out with shaking hands and unscrews the top. She doesn’t miss how they both watch her as she takes a sip.
“If you’re up for it,” Grey begins, “Giving us a statement would be helpful in creating our case.” He pauses, eyes flicking to Nolan for a moment. “But it can wait. Until you’re ready.”
She closes her eyes, flashes of the past few weeks slamming into her.
I’ve finally found the one thing that’ll be your demise, Bradford. Hurting her.
Her eyes fly open, meeting the eyes of the two men she deeply respects, who she knows only want to help her.
“I-“ She coughs, her throat sore from staying silent for days, from screaming for weeks. “A walk. I need a walk.”
“Okay.” Nolan smiles at her, a sad smile, before pushing his chair back. It scrapes along the linoleum floor, and she tries not to let her mind wander. “We can do that. I’ll come with you?”
She makes a sound, slowly pushing her chair back before standing on shaky legs, wrapping her arms around herself as she tries to savor the warmth of his clothes. Feel the warmth of him.
Slowly, she follows him out the door, into the long hallway that’s all too familiar yet not familiar at all. It’s slow, agonizing minutes as they walk in silence, her feet growing heavier with each step. As they reach the bullpen, she expects familiar faces of officers, of the chaos, as if nothing has happened.
But it’s empty.
She stops, eyes flicking towards the empty Watch Commander’s office. She almost expects him to be sitting there, hitting the keyboard as if it’s done something to wrong him.
But it’s quiet, meticulous, the way he’d left it weeks ago.
Her finger touches the empty space where her ring used to be.
“Lucy?”
She turns, eyes catching a head of brown hair before someone is barreling into her, squeezing her tight she can barely breathe.
Tamara.
Her arms wrap around her slowly, hands shaking. “I’m okay.” She whispers.
“I thought you were dead.” She sobs, arms gripping her like she’s afraid she’ll disappear.
Dead. The word barrels into her so much she takes a step back.
It’s then that Tamara looks around, looking for who she can only assume is her other half. “Wait. Where’s T-“
“We really should head back.” Nolan starts, cutting off Tamara’s question. Her eyes flick fearfully between the two.
“Did he not -“
“I want to go home.” Lucy lets out, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “Give my statement tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Nolan takes a step towards her, tentative, as if he’s approaching a scared animal. “Given the circumstances, though, and all that’s happened, LAPD thinks it’s best if you stay somewhere else.” He pauses, as if expecting a protest from her. “We’ve all offered to help you out.” He continues. “So, take your pick.”
“I’ll go with you.” Tamara offers, but she shakes her head.
“I think,” Nolan starts, “that staying with Celina might be a good idea. It’ll be your most familiar setting, which might be good for you.” He taps his temple with one finger. “Good for the psyche.”
“Yeah.” She murmurs. “I’ll call…”
She doesn’t have a phone.
“I’ll call.” Nolan promises. “Okay? Hang tight.”
She watches him disappear down the hallway, jumping when Tamara touches her arm. “Lucy?”
She turns to meet her eyes, sadness swimming within them. “Am I not allowed to - I mean, what happened…” She trails off, and Lucy’s eyes land on the empty Watch Commander office once again. “Where’s Tim?”
Her legs shake, and she forces herself to fall into a nearby chair. Her hands play with the cuffs of his sweatshirt, her eyes locking on the linoleum floor in front of her. “I - I don’t know.” She whispers.
“What do you mean?” She can hear the panic in Tamara’s voice, the same panic that’s lived inside her since Angela and Nyla found her three days ago.
“I -“ A lump forms in her throat. “I haven’t seen him.”
“But that, that doesn’t mean -“
“No.” She swallows, squeezing her eyes shut for a minute before opening them again. “No, I -“
You seeing this, Bradford? You can’t help her.
“Celina will be here in a minute.” She jumps at the sound of Nolan’s voice. “You okay?”
“Mm.”
“If you need anything… let us know, okay?”
“Yeah.”
She can’t sleep.
All she wanted to do for weeks was sleep, and now she can’t.
Her lungs feel like they’re covered in dirt, her body covered in grime, and it’s like she can still feel the ties on her wrists. She turns on her side, eyes fixed on the wall of her old living room.
She thinks of all the times this apartment was a reprieve, but instead, it feels like a prison.
She wishes Tim were here.
Or, at least, if she knew he was alive.