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It takes Lucy 24 minutes and 5 seconds to reach her front door. About 1730 heartbeats – that is, if only she had a heart. She holds herself together enough to strip her clothes off and turn on the shower, and her eyes catch on her day of death tattoo. Buried in a barrel, suffocating to death. She knew she had felt this way before. The worst moment of her life dulls in comparison to this, and she huffs out a derisive chuckle. Day of death 12/09/19. No, Caleb, her day of death was today, just 40 minutes ago. No CPR will save her; there will be no return of spontaneous circulation.
I wish I’d died that day. At least I wouldn’t feel this pain – she startles and pushes the thought violently from her mind. No.
She takes a shuddering breath, commanding her body to walk into the hot water. It does nothing to soothe the chill inside of her, the clawing emptiness that only this morning had held so much love. I have people who love me, a job that fulfills me. I have a life worth living, even if it doesn’t feel that way right now.
Who? The hurt, scared girl inside of her asks, Tim? He lied, and then he left. He left you. He doesn’t love you; he never did. You were just a replacement for the ghost of his wife. His insecurities about you going undercover? He never saw you — just Isabel. You were just a little fool who made him the center of your life and never stopped to wonder if it was the same for him. And now you’ve lost the most important relationship of your life.
The most important relationship of her life. Tim, blinking blearily in the morning sun, sleep-warm and cuddly. Tim, who took in her dog when she couldn’t take care of him. Tim, who smiled into every kiss like he just couldn’t keep his joy in. Tim, who she sat shoulder to shoulder with for the past five years – her mentor, her cheerleader, her confidant, the pain in her ass. Her best friend. The one who always had her back before he plunged a knife into her chest and carved out her heart. Gone.
She mechanically finishes her shower, and her body towels itself off and puts on her pajamas. Her legs bring her body to her bed, and it lays itself on top of the covers. It breathes, in and out. Lucy wishes it would stop. She wishes it would all stop.
The darkness overtakes her, and Lucy, being too tired to fight it anymore, succumbs to sleep.
~~
“I love you, Lucy,” Tim murmurs as his fingers ghost the side of her face, leaning in for a kiss. She feels so warm in his arms, in his bed, tangled in his sheets –
She wakes with Tim’s name on her lips. The smell of coffee invades her room, and for a second she can hear Tim humming the tune to “Here Comes the Sun” under his breath as he flips pancakes.
Then she hears Tamara drop a mug and curse. The illusion shatters and reality floods back in. Now, she must rise and meet the life she has been given.
Move, please, she tries to tell her legs, her torso, her arms, her head. They stay stubbornly supine on the bed. She’s so tired. She can’t bear the thought of walking into work where he will be, where all of their coworkers will be, where they’ll probably give her pitying looks and sad smiles and they’ll shake their heads in private and say “what a shame, that poor girl”, where Lopez and Harper will be politely distant because they were more Tim’s friends and probably just tolerated her because of him, where Nolan will give her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder but then be caught up in his own life, where Smitty is probably already taking bets on her breakup, where she’ll have to face the fact she blew up her chances of promotion by scoring low on the detective’s exam because Primm had it out for her because she was the reason he got moved to Motors so that Tim could be in Metro, where Celina and Aaron will give her well-meaning looks and half-hearted “let me know if there’s anything I can do”s that she will have to brush off because they’re basically Tim’s rookies, and —
Everywhere she looks, there’s Tim. In every corner of her life, he is imprinted into its very bones. He made himself an essential part of her, and he’s gone.
The anger that rushes through her body feels like relief. Get fuck up. You’re Lucy fucking Chen! You’re going to get up, you’re going to go to work, and you’re going to do your fucking job. Don’t you dare let a fucking man ruin your life. The jolt of adrenaline is enough to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom.
She stares at her reflection. Red-rimmed eyes, sallow cheeks, tangled hair greet her. “It’s fine,” she tells herself, “It’s just like an undercover operation.”
Lucy takes a deep breath, forcing herself to meet her own eyes in the mirror. The fake smile slashes her face open. She decides to stop pretending - the smile is too far. “My name is Lucy Chen. I’m a patrol officer at Mid-Wilshire station of the LAPD. And I am completely unaffected by the events of last night. I have never met a Tim Bradford. He is nothing to me. I will get through this day without breaking. I can do this.” She schools her features, draws on the mask of indifference that will keep her safe.
She makes it to her car, through the drive, even through roll call. She pretends not to see the sympathetic looks Nolan throws at her, pretends not to hear the alarmed whispers of the precinct milieu. The mask works for all of thirty seconds after Tim strides into Sergeant Grey’s office, and he looks good – calm, cool, collected – like he didn’t break her heart the night before, like he didn’t respond to her increasingly desperate pleas for him to stop and listen to her, that what he was doing was not okay, with increasingly dead eyes and dismissive “I know”s, like he didn’t kiss her on the forehead and walk away without a single glance back.
She freezes. She wants to run, she wants to scream at him, punch him in his beautiful face, she wants to cry, but most of all… she just wants him.
– His soft smile, “You could never disappoint me.”
– “This was the beginning of the rest of your life”
– Head tilted shyly as he says, “Yes, I love you.”
But he’s not hers anymore, so she chooses to run, bolting out of the office with a hurried nod to Grey. She has to brush past Tim to get to the door, and the smell of her green apple shampoo combined with his aftershave taunts her with its familiarity. She walks faster, even though every fiber in her being itches to whirl back and demand why he decided it was a good idea to use her shampoo this morning. To torture himself? To torture her?
It doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, he was the one who unilaterally decided to blow up their life together. He was the one who was at fault; he’s the one who should hurt. Even as the last thought crosses her mind, she flinches. No matter how angry and hurt she might be, she could never wish that he would feel even a fraction of the pain that currently lives in her chest.
The day passes in a blur. She’s on autopilot, responding to calls as if in a haze. She’s alone in the shop, and the silence is suffocating. “On my own, pretending he’s beside me…” she sings under her breath, almost expecting Tim to huff out a laugh and tell her to knock it off. The thought sobers her. She is on her own – no partner, no rookie, no sergeant making snarky comments next to her – and the world starts to spin around her. Her ears are ringing – why are her ears ringing? Why does she feel like the shop is starting to close in around her? She can’t feel her fingers, she can’t feel her toes, oh my god there’s not enough air in here – the barrel, I’m back in the barrel and no one is coming for me –
Stop! You’re having a panic attack, she tells herself. Breathe in for 4, hold for 7, out for 8. Do it again. You’re safe. She returns to herself after a few cycles, and she presses her hands into her eyes.
"7-Adam-7, possible 459 in progress, 3498 N Wilshire."
She sighs and picks up the radio. "7-Adam-7 responding."
The best part of riding solo, she thinks hysterically, is that no one is here to judge you for your panic attack. Or have your back. Here we are. Alone. Get used to it.
~~~
So Lucy does her best to move forward and focus her energy inwards. She goes on hikes on the weekends, spends a day at LACMA, takes up crocheting to take her mind off of her racing thoughts. She even pushes herself to meet new people, even if she feels a little bit empty afterwards.
Taylor, a local reporter that she meets on a scene, has bright red hair and blue eyes that were as piercing as her wit. She asks Lucy out for coffee, and Lucy accepts. She was beautiful and funny and ambitious, but all Lucy could think is, she looks like Genny. Oh, god, I’m never going to see Genny again, am I? It’d be weird to continue to be friends with your ex-boyfriend’s sister, wouldn’t it? At the end of their coffee date, she gives Lucy a smirk and tells her to call her if she “ever wanted to have a quick fuck to help you forget whoever you’re trying to forget”, and Lucy almost chokes on her coffee. Taylor just laughs and walks away.
Dan, a friend of Ella’s from the NoHo precinct, is nice enough. Lucy had gone out with Ella a week ago, and, in her drunken state, tearfully expectorated the whole tragic tale of Tim and her broken heart. After a long Ella Hug, Ella rubs her shoulder and suggests that they call it a night. The next morning, her phone buzzes with a text from Ella, “omg i have this friend who’s also going through a rough time and maybe you two could like get together and meet for coffee???”
She groans and shoots back, “why?? bc misery loves company?”
“exactly! he just needs to get out of the house, and what better way than for two of my very good friends to meet :)”
“fine, give me his number…”
He talks about his daughter, Trixie, and how she really wants a dog, and Lucy brightens and shows him pictures of Kojo. “... and this is Kojo getting spooked by a squirrel that ran across our trail…”
“Aww, he’s so cute! It must be a lot of work looking after him, you know, with our schedules.”
“I, uhh, he’s technically not my dog? I mean, I adopted him from a shelter after I got kidnapped and almost suffocated to death in a barrel in the desert, but I couldn’t look after him, so Tim–” Kojo is Tim’s dog. Oh god, she’s never going to see Kojo again, is she? The bottom drops out from her stomach, and she starts to tear up. Another aspect of my life that’s Tim’s. “Uhh, sorry, umm, Tim, my uhh, my TO at the time, and then we started dating a few years later, he took Kojo in. So…” she shrugs, trying to ignore the stinging in her eyes.
Dan puts his hand on top of hers in sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“He’s not dead,” Lucy rushes to correct, “well, he’s dead to me.” She tries to go for levity. Neither of them laugh.
Dan looks at her solemnly. “I’m not going to pretend to know everything that happened between you two, but as someone whose love is dead and never really got closure, if you think that there’s still love between you two, I think you owe it to yourself to at least tell him. Get closure.”
Lucy shudders out a breath and smiles wetly. “I’m sorry for your loss. And I’ll think about what you said. Things are… complicated, and I don’t know if love is enough to overcome all of our stuff. But you’re right about the closure.”
Dan stands and offers her a hug. “Hey, I’m really glad we got to spend this time together today. And if you ever want to transfer to NoHo…” he trails off in suggestion. “I know people who would absolutely streamline your paperwork.”
Lucy accepts the hug and says, “Thank you. It was really nice to meet you. Good luck beating Trixie at that unicorn game.”
Dan laughs. “I won’t ever beat that kid, but thanks.” With a final wave, he turns and walks into the sunset.
~~
It has been a long day. Lopez and Harper had approached her with a new UC assignment, and while a part of her was itching to get back out there, another part was worried that her grief would turn into distraction that would get her killed. Lucy drops her bag with a thump and rubs at her aching neck.
She startles at the sight of a small black spider hanging from the corner of the living room ceiling. “Hey, babe–” Fuck.
“Babe, there’s a bug in the bathtub!”
“Okay? Just get a tissue and kill it?”
“What? No! I’m not killing it! It’s not its fault for just hanging out,” Lucy protests. She turns her puppy dog eyes at Tim. “Could you please trap it and take it outside for me? Please?”
Tim caves. “Why do I love you?” He half-heartedly grumbles, any sting taken out of the words with a loving kiss pressed to her forehead.
“Love you, too! Thank you!”
Her cheeks are wet. She leaves the spider where it is. It’s not hurting anybody.
~~~
It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. The rest of my life. In another life, they could be part of wedding vows. The grief for that life almost crushes her. That future’s gone, and it’s not just his fault. It’s time to let him go. “Tim?” She calls out after him.
He turns, halfway to his car. “Yeah?” he asks, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“You don’t have to do this.” An unintentional echo of one of the worst days of her life.
He frowns and steps towards her. “What do you mean?”
Lucy’s mouth twists. “I mean, ‘the rest of my life’? You don’t have to do these nice things or whatever because you’re grateful for me saving your life or out of pity or guilt. I’ve made my peace with us. Please don’t get bent out of shape trying to compensate or whatever.”
Tim shakes his head and holds his hands out as if to stop the words from reaching him. “Luce, I’m not sure I’m following what you’re trying to tell me.”
She takes a deep breath. “It wasn’t all your fault, us, our relationship, ruining things between us. I think… I think it was my fault first. I confessed my feelings for you and put you in an awkward position, I forced you to ask me to dinner, I kept the Metro thing from you, I forced you to say what you really thought of me going undercover even though you weren’t ready to talk about it. I,” she takes a shuddering breath, “I made you say that you loved me, and maybe you meant it, but it should have been on your terms. I have been dictating every single aspect or milestone in our relationship, and I tried to make you stay, even though that’s clearly not what you want. Why else would you be able to let go of us so easily?” She hates the way her voice wobbles at the end.
Tim’s expression is as devastated as Lucy feels. She hates that she’s the one who put it there. “Lucy, what? You – what? I’m not doing this out of pity or guilt, and I’m hurt that you could even think that.” He hesitantly takes her hand – when did he get close enough for her to breathe in? “You’re the love of my life! Losing you broke me – I’m still raw and bleeding, and I will never be over what we had. You didn’t force me to do anything.” He gently tips her head up to look into her eyes. “You were always braver than me.”
The rage that burns through her takes her by surprise. She thought that she had moved forward from anger. “Then why did you walk away?” she snaps, stepping back, knowing space was necessary even while mourning the loss of his hands on hers. “Why did you blow us up? Why have you always refused to let me tell you how I’m feeling about all of this? Do you really hate yourself enough to use me to punish yourself?”
Tim doesn’t say anything, but Lucy could see in the sheen of his eyes and the tightness in his jaw that she had hit it right on the nose.
She angrily wipes her eyes. “Wow. Okay. I wish that I could be more to you than a bleeding wound you pick at to remind yourself of pain.”
“You are. You’re everything to me. I still love you.”
“I still love you, too,” Lucy admits, “I’ll love you until I die, but I don’t know how we can come back from this. I don’t know how I can trust you not to walk when things get hard or you feel like you have to punish yourself for some perceived moral failing. I love you, but I need you to at least not hate yourself – not just for me – this is not a condition – you have to want to put in the work for you.”
“I’m working on it. Therapy has been helpful, talking out everything that’s happened, challenging the internal monologue that tells me that I’m not worthy of love or anything good in life. How I still see you as the rookie I trained, you being under my care, and not as my partner, my equal. I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for us to be on even ground.”
“Thank you for saying that. I’m glad that you’re working through it. I think… I’m also going to go back to therapy. It’s been a rough couple of months, and you know me, I like to talk things through.”
“I know you do.” Tim’s lips quirk up in a small smile. She allows the reference.
Even though they might not be able to salvage what they had, she still wants him in her life. Her chest is tired of aching. She gives in to the pull. “Where do we go from here?” she asks.
“I meant what I said about making it up to you.”
“And I meant what I said about not having to. I don’t want to feel like you’re doing things because you think you owe me for not being an asshole over our relationship. But I do want you in my life. You’re still one of the most important people in my life, and these months have been hell.”
Tim looks thoughtful. “Should we make a contract?”
Lucy sputters out a laugh. “What?”
“Like in that movie you like to watch?” Tim looks over sheepishly. “The one where the girl writes letters to all the boys she’s had feelings for and then they all get sent? Her and the love interest write a contract for their fake relationship, don’t they?”
“I can’t believe you remember that!”
“I remember everything you say, Lucy. And I know how big of a fan you are of lists.”
“That’s not a bad idea. There’s a lot of literature out there about how making a contract and reviewing it every once in a while helps relationships become stronger and helps set and communicate boundaries.” Lucy nods. “This way, we can both set the terms.”
Tim holds out his hand. “Well, in that case, we have a deal, Officer Chen.”
“Glad to hear it, Sergeant Bradford.”
It feels like both a balm and a sting to know that they need to lay everything out because they both know that she can’t trust him without something to hold him accountable. It’s a step in the right direction, but she hates that they need to do this. It feels like starting over. It feels like giving up.
It must show on her face because Tim sobers and asks, “We’re not okay, are we?”
As much as it hurts, she shakes her head. But for the first time in months, hope blooms in her chest. “No, but we will be. I truly believe that.”