Chapter 1: She Came Back, and Nothing Else Mattered
Chapter Text
Lucy.
The name cracked through the air like a fault line. Tim’s head jerked up—too fast, too hard. Pain lanced down his neck. But his heart had already stopped.
She was there. Standing right in the middle of the precinct. Covered in dust.
Her hair was a mess. A bandage cut across her temple. And that damn smirk—crooked, stubborn—the one she always wore when everything was worse than she let on.
Like she hadn’t gone radio silent after the blast. Like she hadn’t nearly died under the rubble. Like she hadn’t just ripped something out of him.
The station stopped. Everything. Everyone. But Tim only saw her.
Lucy.
His breath caught hard. His heart slammed into his ribs. He shouldn’t move. He knew that. Knew where they were. Knew how many eyes were watching.
But the fear hadn’t gone. Not really. And he’d never been good at waiting. Not with her.
Three steps. That’s all it took. And then—he kissed her.
Rough. Desperate.
One hand gripped her back. Tight. Like if he didn’t hold on, she’d disappear again. His breath crashed into hers—hot, uneven. And for a second—a beat—she froze.
Then she gave in.
Her fingers clawed at his jacket, yanked him closer. Her heart burst open in her chest. Just one second. One second where nothing else existed but him.
Like everything he’d locked away—day after day—had broken loose.
He didn’t let go. Couldn’t. He pulled her tighter, grounding himself in her weight, her warmth, the raw truth that she was here. Still breathing. Still his.
A stunned silence rippled through the room. Nobody moved.
No one had ever seen Tim Bradford lose control.
Angela blinked. Nyla raised an eyebrow. A glance between them—half shock, half something else.
Did he really just do that?
Lucy held on like she didn’t know where else to be. Her breath caught against his. And for a few seconds—there was nothing. Just them.
Then he pulled back. Just a little. His forehead pressed to hers. He felt it—her breath, trembling.
She parted her lips. Hesitated. Blinked. Still shaking. Somewhere between shock—and something else.
And then it hit her. All at once. The stares. The silence. The burn crawling up her cheeks.
“Well… that’s not exactly regulation, Sergeant.”
Somewhere behind them, someone choked on a laugh.
Then came the cough. Sharp. Deliberate.
Grey.
Tim closed his eyes. Just for a beat. Shit. He turned. Wall of stares. Angela—arms crossed, suspended between disbelief and something dangerously close to delight. Nyla, eyebrow raised, smirk just beginning.
Grey sighed. Long. Heavy. Done.
“Sergeant Bradford. Perhaps you’d like to… take this somewhere else?”
And that’s when Lucy realized it. Really realized it. Where they were. What they’d just done. And everything crashed down at once. Heat. Shame. The full weight of it.
“Oh… shit.” Barely a whisper, before she buried her face in Tim’s chest, hiding.
He felt her breath shudder against him. Felt her fingers curl tighter into the fabric of his uniform like she needed something—anything—to hold on to.
His hand moved. Instinct. Up her back. Fingertips brushing the nape of her neck. Gentle. Steady. Protective.
“It’s a little late for that,” he murmured into her hair.
She groaned. He smiled. Grey cleared his throat again. Louder this time. Sharper. “My office, Bradford. Now.”
Lucy whimpered softly against his chest. “You’re a dead man.”
Tim looked down at her. Smiled again. Soft. Quiet.
“Maybe. But I don’t care.”
He held her tighter. Just a little more. His thumb moved along her back. Slow. Grounding.
He wasn’t letting go. Not now. Not after this.
And he pulled her even closer.
TBC
Chapter 2: What You Held On To
Summary:
She came back. Alive. Standing.
And in a single heartbeat, Tim forgot everything—rules, stares, fear.
Just her.
So he kissed her. In front of everyone.
Now, he has to face Grey… and Lucy has to face everything that kiss brought back to life.
Because sometimes, what you thought you'd lost leads you right back to where you belong.
Notes:
Thanks for The Comments, The Kudos and The Support!! Guys you are amazing!!
This fic was originally meant to be a one-shot, but it turned into a full WIP.
I’ll be honest with you—I have no idea where it’s going yet, but I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.The first chapter really stuck with me from the moment I wrote
it, and honestly, I just couldn’t walk away from it.Feel free to tell me what you think—I’d really love to hear what you enjoyed in these first two chapters!
Don’t worry, I don’t bite!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tim tightened his hold — just a little. Like letting go might undo everything. Lucy closed her eyes. Her cheek still resting against his chest, caught in the rhythm of a heartbeat that refused to slow. Not yet. And somewhere inside, something gave. A knot she hadn’t even realized she was carrying started to loosen. One breath. Just one. Slow. Shaky.
The silence had shifted. No more gasps. Just whispers now. A cough here. A rustle there. And heat — blooming fast across her cheeks.
They were still standing in the middle of the precinct. Every pair of eyes on them. Colleagues. Supervisors. The whole damn station.
Her body stiffened. Reflex. Like survival mode had flipped back on.
Tim felt it. Instantly. He leaned in, his lips brushing the edge of her temple. His voice — low, rough, meant only for her.
“I’ve got you. Just breathe.”
She did. Barely. A shallow inhale. Then another. Her breath caught against him. Paused. Then settled.
When she looked up, her eyes shimmered. Not with tears. But something unstable. Real.
A nervous smile broke through — uneven, fragile.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
Tim let out the smallest breath of a laugh.
“Yeah. Me neither.”
His hand didn’t leave her back.
“I don’t regret it.”
A throat cleared. Sharp. On purpose.
“Sergeant Bradford. My office. Now.” Grey.
Lucy flinched. Tim didn’t move. She stepped back slowly. Her fingers brushed his chest — just a second too long. Like she wasn’t quite ready to let go. The space between them opened too fast. She felt it in her stomach. In her chest.
Grey looked at Tim, one brow lifted.
“You planning to move, or should I spell it out?”
Tim’s jaw clenched. He glanced at Lucy — just once.
“I’ll be okay,” he said. Like it was fact. Like it had to be.
Lucy nodded. Barely.
“Go.” Her voice tried to sound steady. It didn’t quite make it. But she wasn’t sure of anything right now.
Tim stepped away. Every pair of eyes in the room followed him. Each step felt heavier than the last. But he didn’t turn around.
And Lucy — she didn’t move. She just stood there. Still.
Until — a hand brushed her arm. Light. Careful. Angela.
Her gaze held a spark of something — humor, maybe. But mostly concern.
“You okay?”
Lucy let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. It cracked on the way out.
“I don’t know.”
Angela gave a small nod.
“Sit. I’ll grab you a coffee.”
Lucy didn’t argue. Couldn’t. She walked to the closest desk, head high — barely. Ignoring the glances. The murmurs.
She sat. And for a second — just one — she closed her eyes.
Her pulse was still wild. Her lips still warm from the kiss. Her body — still carrying the imprint of his arms.
She should’ve been mortified. And maybe… she was.
But more than that — she felt steady. Anchored. Because that kiss — she’d needed it.
Maybe more than she’d ever let herself admit.
***
In Grey’s office, the air felt heavier than it should’ve. Tim stood still, spine straight, fists clenched at his sides. Grey didn’t speak at first. He just watched him.
“Do you realize what you just did?”
The tone — even, too calm — was the kind that was worse than anger.
Tim didn’t blink. “Yes, sir.”
Grey let out a long breath. Slow. Tight.
“You kissed your ex. In full view. Middle of the damn precinct.”
A pause.
“She was still bleeding, Tim. Covered in dust. Bandaged. You want to tell me how that looked from where I was standing?”
No answer. Grey rubbed the bridge of his nose. Already done. Already tired.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Tim breathed in. “I wasn’t.”
Grey’s head snapped back up. “Excuse me?”
No hesitation this time. Tim stood firm. “I thought she was dead.”
Silence. Thick.
“When the radio cut out… when we lost sight of her… I thought I’d lost her. For real. For good.”
His voice—low. Rough. Like it scraped on the way out.
Grey didn’t speak right away. Didn’t even move.
Then—
“You couldn’t wait until the end of your shift?”
Tim looked down, then back up. His voice was steady.
“I didn’t want to.”
Another silence. Longer this time.
Grey leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.
“I should suspend you.”
“You won’t.”
That landed. Grey’s stare sharpened. But Tim didn’t flinch.
“Because if it had been someone you loved, you would’ve done the same.”
Grey didn’t argue. Didn’t confirm it either. But something shifted in the air.
Finally, he let out a long breath.
“Get out. Before I change my mind.”
Tim didn’t thank him. Didn’t explain. He just turned and walked out. Straight into whatever came next.
***
Back outside, the room quieted again. Every head turned. And in the middle of it all— Smitty. Still slouched. Still unmoved.
“Knew it. Called it months ago.”
Angela groaned.
“If anyone wants to start a betting pool on the wedding date, now’s your chance.
I’m putting twenty on January.”
Tim didn’t react. Didn’t smile. His eyes went straight to Lucy. That was it. She was still at her desk.
Coffee in hand. Shoulders tense. Eyes already on him.
He walked over. Not fast. Just steady. Certain.
When he reached her, neither of them said a word. Not at first. Then—quietly—
“So… did you survive?”
He let out a breath of a smile.
“Technically.”
She smiled, too. Just a little. It didn’t last.
Her eyes dropped to her coffee.
“I should be more embarrassed than I am.”
“You’re not?”
She shrugged.
“I will be. Later.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
Then she looked back up.
“Tim… what was that?”
He didn’t act like he didn’t understand. Didn’t dodge.
“When we thought you were gone—when we lost contact—I lost it. That’s all.”
She nodded. Slowly.
“I didn’t want you to panic.”
“Lucy. That’s like asking me not to breathe.”
Silence again.
Then—
“Okay,” she said.
Not an answer. Not fully. But it was something. Something real.
He nodded. His hand brushed the edge of her chair. Light. Barely a touch. Then he stepped back. No words. No pressure. He didn’t need to say more.
He was there. And he wasn’t going anywhere.
TBC
Notes:
Until Next Time.
Chapter 3: The Quiet That Stayed
Summary:
After everything that happened—after the explosion, the kiss, the fear—Lucy goes home alone. But the night isn’t over. And when Tim knocks, neither of them is ready to pretend it didn’t mean something.
Notes:
Guys, thanks for the kudos, the comments and The support!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Lucy pushed the door to her apartment and closed it slowly behind her. The silence hit her hard. Thick, suffocating. Like even the walls were waiting for something to collapse.
She stayed exactly where she was, like her body hadn’t caught up yet. One hand still on the doorknob, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The day hit her all over again. Not in pieces—everything, all at once. The explosion. The kiss. The way they’d all looked at her, like she wasn’t quite real.
It didn’t let her breathe.
She should’ve felt relieved to be home. Away from the station. Away from the whispers. But there was no comfort in it. Just the echo of everything she was trying to forget.
She sighed and dragged her feet to the couch. Dropped onto it, heavy. No energy left to think. No strength to fight the noise in her chest.
And yet… her lips still tingled. Her skin still remembered the weight of his arms. The way he’d held her. The way he hadn’t let go.
She shut her eyes.
Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him.
Her phone buzzed. Her eyes opened immediately. She stayed still. Just stared at the screen, breath caught somewhere between her ribs.
Then, slowly, like her body had made the decision before her mind did, she reached for it.
Tim: You awake?
She frowned. Her thumb hovered over the screen. She could’ve ignored it. Maybe she should’ve.
Instead, she typed.
Lucy: Not yet.
A moment passed, then the screen lit up again.
Tim: Me neither.
A smile tugged at her lips—small, involuntary. She leaned back a little, shoulder against the armrest, the soft light of the screen brushing against the dark.
Lucy: Too much coffee or too many thoughts?
Tim: Both. You?
She hesitated. Then typed without thinking too much.
Lucy: Both, too.
The silence stretched. No new vibration.
She kept her eyes on the screen, like it might still light up. But nothing came.
She let out a quiet sigh. Maybe he’d felt it too—that shift, subtle but certain, when words start lingering longer than they should.
That it was starting to say more than it should.
She set her phone on the coffee table, leaned back, and let her body sink deeper into the couch.
Eyes closed. Just for a second.
She was going to bed. She was going to forget this day. That was the plan.
A soft knock at the door stopped her cold. Her whole body stilled. Her breath caught. Her heart skipped once—then again.
Her body stayed still, like something inside her hadn’t caught up yet. Just stared at the entryway like it might move first.
A second knock. Quiet. Careful. She already knew.
Her legs moved before her brain caught up. Fingers on the doorknob. A breath drawn deep.
She turned the handle and pulled the door open. Slowly
Tim.
He was there. Hands buried in his jacket pockets. Like he hadn’t decided yet if showing up had been the right move.
She didn’t say a word. Didn’t ask why he was there. Because she already knew.
And because she didn’t want him to leave. So she stepped aside.
He didn’t say anything either. Just walked in.
Lucy closed the door behind him. Gently. Like the sound of it slamming might’ve shattered whatever still held between them. Tim didn’t move. His eyes drifted across the apartment, not really landing on anything. Like he was looking for a reason to be there—but hadn’t found it yet.
A lifeline. But there wasn’t one. They both knew it.
Lucy rubbed the back of her neck, unsure what to do with herself. The silence had weight. More than usual. Strange. Like something neither of them had the words for.
She drew in a quiet breath, then turned toward the kitchen.
“You want some coffee?“
Her voice was low, casual. But she didn’t wait for an answer. She just moved. Because standing still felt worse.
Something to focus on. Her hands moved automatically, too quickly, as if pouring water or reaching for mugs might keep her grounded.
But he followed. Quiet steps behind her. Closer than expected. She sensed him before anything else—just the warmth of him, close, brushing her back like breath she hadn’t prepared for.
“Lucy.”
His voice was low. Rough. The kind of rough that only comes after too much silence.
She closed her eyes for a second. Told herself not to turn around. Not yet. But it was already too late. She turned. Slowly. And he was right there.
His eyes traced her face, every line, every shift of light and shadow across her skin. He didn’t hide it. Didn’t rush. And something about the way he looked at her—quiet, steady—made her feel more exposed than she ever had in front of him.
He still hadn’t said anything else. He didn’t have to. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter—slow, instinctive.
“Why are you here, Tim?“
Her voice barely carried. Almost not there. But it was enough. No escape. No teasing. No walls.
Just the question. And the space between them.
Tim lowered his head a little. His tongue brushed across his bottom lip—like he was still trying to find the right words. Then he looked up. And what he said wasn’t what she’d expected.
“I don’t want to go home.“
Lucy felt her breath hitch, just for a second. He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t even trying to hide what he felt. And that… that scared her more than she wanted to admit.
She nodded slowly, more to herself than to him, before murmuring:
“Okay.“
One word. One quiet acceptance. But it was enough.
Tim took a deep breath, then finally moved—walking around the counter to sit down on the couch, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Lucy didn’t move at first. She just watched his back. The way his shoulders dropped slightly, like something in him had finally unclenched. Like sitting down had let something go.
Then she joined him. She sat at the far end of the couch. Not far enough to be cold. Just… careful. Just enough to still feel him there. Just enough for the air between them to stay charged with that low, quiet tension neither of them dared name.
A long silence settled. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just… attentive.
Then, without really thinking, Lucy let her head fall back against the couch and murmured, almost to herself:
“I almost died today.“
Tim didn’t move, but she felt the way his body tensed. Not much, just enough to shift the air between them. She didn’t need to look to know he’d closed his eyes, even for a second—just trying to hold something back. Something too raw.
“I know.“
His voice was rough. Worn. Like it had been sitting in his chest for hours.
Lucy turned her head toward him slowly.
“That’s why you’re here… because you can’t stop thinking about it?”
Tim’s lips pressed together. His eyes didn’t move. Still fixed ahead. But she could see it—he knew she was right. There was nothing left to pretend.
He nodded.
“ Yeah.“
A silence followed. Not empty. Just full of everything unsaid.
A suspended beat.
Then, very slowly, Lucy reached out her hand. It wasn’t planned. Just an impulse.
Her fingers brushed his—barely there, a quiet gesture that found him without warning. Her breath caught. Not loud, but enough. He didn’t pull away.
He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t take her hand either. Because it wasn’t his decision to make. It was hers.
Lucy looked down at their hands. They were barely touching—just skin against skin, not quite holding. Her chest lifted with a breath she didn’t fully control. Then, slowly, she threaded her fingers through his.
This time, Tim held on. Firm. Steady. Like he was telling her everything she couldn’t let herself ask—I’m here. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.
She felt it. The pressure of his fingers wrapped around hers. Simple. Silent. Just a hand in a hand. But not nothing. Nothing between them ever was. She should’ve let go. Should’ve pulled back. Should’ve pretended this night didn’t mean anything.
But she was tired of pretending. So, slowly, she turned toward him. He was already watching her. His gaze was dark. Still. Like he was waiting for something she couldn’t name.
Lucy swallowed. Her throat tightened. Her heart was too loud in the quiet, too fast for her to ignore. Tim didn’t move. He wasn’t pushing. He was letting her choose. And that… that was the worst kind of temptation.
Because she knew that if he touched her first, she wouldn’t even try to stop it. But he didn’t. He just waited.
He was offering something else. An open door. A possibility. A choice.
Her eyes dropped to their joined hands, still folded together on the couch. Her fingers shifted slightly, brushing against his—testing the warmth, the texture, the space between. She waited for him to stop her. To pull away. He didn’t.
So she drew in a slow breath. Then she moved. One inch. Then another. Her free hand found his arm, fingertips gliding slowly up his sleeve. The fabric was soft. The skin underneath—warmer. Closer. She felt it then. The way his muscles tensed. The way he held himself still. Like staying that still was costing him something.
It was all there, just under the surface.
She could’ve said something. Whispered his name. Asked if this was a mistake. Looked for reassurance in his voice.
But she didn’t want to speak. She just wanted to feel. Slowly, she lifted her head. And only then did she see him give in.
Tim finally moved. His hand slipped from hers—not to let go, but to hold her better. His fingers slid up her wrist, then along her arm, leaving a slow, burning line behind them.
Lucy held her breath. Her eyes locked with his. And finally—finally—he closed the last inch.
His forehead touched hers. His breath brushed against her lips. Soft. Unhurried. Real.
She closed her eyes. Just for a second. Because she knew—when she opened them again, everything would shift. And when she did, Tim kissed her.
And this time, there was no precinct. No eyes. No rules. No holding back.
Only them.
TBC
Notes:
Until Next Time!!!
Chapter 4: The Night We Forgot Everything Else
Summary:
After the explosion, after the silence, after the kiss—there's only them.
For one night, Lucy and Tim let go of everything they’ve been holding back. No uniforms. No rules. Just the weight of what almost happened… and the truth neither of them can ignore anymore.
Notes:
Okay, so—this chapter dropped a little earlier than planned, I know.
Just wanted to give you a heads-up: Trying Not To Love You is gonna take a bit longer than She Came Back and Nothing Else Mattered, mostly because my another beta needs more time to go over the English properly. There were a few mistakes, and I really want it to be clean before I post the rest.But this one?
This chapter? I’m posting it because I needed it.
And honestly? I wanted to share it now—for me, and for you.I swear the rest is still coming, promise.
My exams are creeping up fast and I don’t have as much time for myself these days…
But I haven’t forgotten you. Not even close.Thanks for being here. Always.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
And this time, there was no precinct. No eyes. No rules. Just them.
Lucy felt something shift. Not panic. Not doubt. Just that feeling—like the ground slipping, but not falling. Like free fall, but chosen.
Tim was kissing her like it was the only thing that had ever made sense. And maybe… maybe it was.
She didn’t even have time to think. Her body moved first. Her hands found his collar, pulling him in. Closer. Like she needed him right there to stay whole.
He pulled her just as fiercely. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just heat. Pressure. Certainty. Not messy. Not rushed. Just… inevitable.
She didn’t know who moved first. Whether he steered her toward the bedroom or she pulled him with her. It didn’t matter. They knew.
The door closed behind them. They didn’t stop.
Tim pressed her back against the wood, slow but sure, his hands settling on her waist. His mouth met hers again—hungrier now. Like he could brand the moment into her skin. Her head tipped back, breath caught somewhere between his touch and the place he was already reaching—just below her ear. The one he hadn’t forgotten. The one he hadn’t forgotten.
She bit her lip. Tried to hold it in. The sigh slipped out anyway.
He froze. Instantly. Looked at her. Eyes burning. Breath uneven.
“Lucy…”
Her name, barely spoken. Just air. Low. Raw. Unsteady.
She knew what it meant. She knew he’d stop. If she asked.
But she didn’t want him to. Didn’t want to speak.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt. She pulled him in again—gaze steady, breath shallow. And that was all the answer he needed.
The heat between them rose before he even touched her again. That quiet, unbearable tension. The kind that begged to break.
She should’ve hesitated. Should’ve questioned it. But he was there.
And so was she. When she pulled him to her, he didn’t resist. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t give her space to doubt.
His arms wrapped around her—firm, but gentle. Like he was trying to keep her close. Keep her here.
Lucy closed her eyes. His mouth found hers again. Slower now. Deeper. No rush.
They had time. More than time. Just… this.
His hand traced along her hip, the heat of it slipping under her shirt. Not fast. Not greedy. Just discovering. Skin under fingertips. Breath against breath.
She shivered. But didn’t pull back. Didn’t want to. She wanted to feel all of it. Exactly like this.
When she looked at him, his eyes held more than want. Something stronger. Something that had waited.
A breath escaped her lips. Almost a sound. Almost a word. But not quite.
He understood. The urgency faded. No resistance. No rush. Only that steady gravity pulling them closer.
Tim kissed her like it was the only thing that mattered. Like he needed to remember every second. Every inch.
His hands were sure, but never insistent. They found her slowly. Always asking. Never pushing.
And she felt it before he even moved— That way he had of holding her. Enough to ground her. Never enough to cage her.
That was Tim. That raw tenderness. That careful strength. That silence full of meaning.
They sank into the bed together. No words. Just shared breath. Quiet hands. The kind of closeness that doesn’t need to be explained. It wasn’t a mistake. Not a slip. It was a choice.
They both knew that morning would come. That this couldn’t follow them past the door.
But tonight didn’t ask for that. Tonight, they were just… here. Together.
The dark wrapped around them. The quiet wasn’t empty. It was full. Of everything unsaid.Everything already known.
Lucy felt the weight of the sheet across her skin—still warm. Still awake. She could’ve moved. Created space.
But he was still there. And she wasn’t ready to let go. A sigh escaped her—barely audible. Tim’s fingers brushed her arm. Absent, quiet. Like his body hadn’t realized it was still reaching for her. He didn’t say anything.
He didn’t need to. She shifted her head slightly, the pillow cool beneath her cheek. She could feel him there. Not his breath. Not his voice. Just… him. In the dark.
His gaze. That stillness. Something flickered under her skin. A tremor. Not fear. Just… his presence. She wasn’t sure which of them spoke first. But the question was there. Between them. Suspended like a shared secret.
“What do we do now?”
Silence.
Then, his voice. Low. Sure.
“Whatever you want.”
A beat. Lucy inhaled, slowly. She didn’t have the answer. Not yet. But she knew one thing. She didn’t want this to stop. So she didn’t say a word. She just shifted—just enough.
And Tim understood. He always did. He reached for her. Pulled her in. And this time, neither of them looked for an excuse.
***
The first thing she felt was warmth. A weight behind her. A slow breath, brushing the back of her neck. It took a second. Maybe more. For her body to catch up. To remember.
Her eyelids lifted, slow against the faint light leaking through the curtains. And then it hit her. The sheet against her skin. The stillness of the room. His arm—draped around her waist. Heavy. Familiar. Tim. Still there.
Her breath quickened just a little. She didn’t move. Didn’t dare disturb that fragile space they were still in.
She could’ve slipped away. Could’ve stood up. Walked out before reality caught up with them.
But she didn’t. Because for the first time in a while, there was no void. No noise. Just… something steady. Something she could hold on to.
Behind her, Tim stirred. Not much. Just enough. His arm tightened in his sleep—instinctive. Like his body knew before he did that he didn’t want to let her go.
Lucy closed her eyes again. She should’ve said something. Broken the silence.
But just as she drew breath to speak, his voice came first.
“You’re awake.”
It was rough. Still laced with sleep.
The sound of his voice reached her first. Then the shiver. She didn’t fight it.
"Yes," she said, barely more than breath.
Tim didn’t move. Didn’t let go. His forehead brushed against her shoulder—soft, instinctive. Barely there. But intimate in a way that made her eyes sting.
“You okay?”
His voice was low. Careful. She didn’t answer right away. She could’ve lied. Said yes. Said she was fine. But that wasn’t what this was. She didn’t dress it up. Didn’t lie.
“I don’t know.”
Silence. She felt him breathe. Slow. Like he was choosing his words, or maybe just trying to feel them before they left his mouth.
“Me neither.”
His fingers moved lightly along her hip. Not holding. Not asking. Just there. A quiet reminder. Her breath shook on the way out.
She didn’t know what came after this. Maybe she didn’t want to. Didn’t know if this was foolish, or too much, or already doomed. But she didn’t want to pull away.
Not yet. So she found his hand. Slowly. Laced her fingers through his. And he held on. The silence stretched—long, uncertain. Neither of them moved to break it.
Then Tim shifted slightly behind her. Not pulling back. Just… adjusting. Like his body remembered something his mind hadn’t said yet. They couldn’t stay here.
Lucy inhaled. Then turned onto her back. Her gaze met his. Instantly. His eyes, still that same blue—but softer now. Unarmored in the light.
No regret. Just that quiet thing they never said out loud. Tim looked at her for a beat.
Then—
“We’re gonna be late.”
She blinked. A laugh slipped out, caught between disbelief and affection.
Seriously? She rolled her eyes.
“You? Late? I should call someone. That’s an emergency.”
Tim smiled. But it wasn’t all light. There was something behind it. Something that knew this moment wouldn’t hold much longer.
Lucy felt it too. The bubble couldn’t hold forever.
So she sat up, slowly. Let the sheet fall. The morning air was cool against her skin—too real, too soon. Behind her, Tim stayed seated for a moment. Watching her. Then he stood.
No kiss. No touch. Just one last glance. Because they’d always said more in silence.
Lucy reached for the first shirt she saw—his. She held it for a second, fingers at the hem.
Then slipped it on without a word.
Tim watched. Didn’t say anything. Just… looked. And that look— That was the kind that said he was already in too deep.
She ignored it. Tied her hair up quickly. Then, voice calm, almost too casual:
“We should go.”
He nodded. Slow. But before he could move, she reached out—fingers closing around his wrist. Quick. Sudden. Like her body decided before she did.
She didn’t know why. She just… wanted a second more. A beat that wouldn’t stretch into anything else. Just that.
Tim didn’t move. Just looked at her. Waiting.
She opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
No words came. And maybe they didn’t need to.
Notes:
Until Next Time
Thanks for The Kudos and The Comments and The Support!! It's really appreciated!!
Chapter 5: Nothing Felt The Same
Summary:
One night. It wasn’t supposed to change anything.
But by morning, everything is different.
The looks linger too long. The silence says too much.
Angela is watching. Celina is catching on.
And Lucy? She’s trying to stay in control.
But Tim is right there.
And it only takes one glance to set everything on fire again.
Notes:
This chapter is all about loaded silences, daggered glances, and the kind of restraint that hurts more than any confession.
Think you’re fine?
You’re not.Chapter 9 is coming Soon!
It’s worse.
It’s better.
It’s cruel.
And it’s so good.You’ve been warned.
Stay Tune!!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tim pushed open the station doors—and the weight of normalcy hit him like a brick. The hallways were the same. The voices, the noise, the artificial lights. Nothing had changed.
Except him. He walked like he always did—measured, precise—pretending not to feel the knot twisting tighter in his chest. One night with Lucy. That wasn’t supposed to change everything. And yet…
And yet… he could still feel the ghost of her skin against his. Still feel her breath lingering at the base of his neck. Still feel the heat of her fingers tangled with his. One hell of a problem.
He stepped into the locker room and changed quickly, keeping his movements mechanical. No time to think. No right to think. When he stepped out, Angela was already by the coffee machine. She looked up, one brow raised.
“You look like hell, Tim.”
He ignored the ridiculous way his heart jumped. She doesn’t know. He grabbed a coffee, kept it casual.
“Thanks for the compliment.”
Angela stared at him for a second. Too long. Tim took a sip, unfazed.
“Rough night or did you just not sleep at home?” she asked, her voice teasing but curious.
A beat of silence. He forced a crooked smile.
“You done with the interrogation, Detective Lopez?”
Angela narrowed her eyes. She didn’t know anything. But she felt something. A shift behind him suddenly caught her attention. Tim felt it before he even turned around. Lucy had just arrived.
His heart skipped a beat. Shit. Lucy pushed open the doors to the open space. She should’ve felt normal.
Should’ve walked in like every other morning, crossed the room like nothing had changed. But nothing felt the same.
Her heart—too loud. Uniform—too tight. But mostly… He was there. Her gaze drifted across the room—almost against her will—and found him instantly.
Tim. Standing near the coffee machine, back straight, too stiff, too focused on a goddamn cup. Pretending.
But she knew him too well. She saw his shoulders tighten—barely. The subtle tension in his jaw, that near-invisible tic he had when he was thinking too much. He knew she was there. And then he looked up. Their eyes met.
A heartbeat. Suspended. Too raw, too familiar. He stiffened, barely. But she saw it.
Lucy’s pulse jumped. Her breath hitched, just slightly, the kind of break no one hears—except him. A slow burn crawled up her throat, flushed the edges of her face. She saw their fingers again. Laced in the dark. His breath at her ear. Her name whispered like a secret.
And Tim… he remembered too. His jaw clenched. A flicker in his eyes—too fast, too honest. Like a fault line cracking under pressure.
She should’ve looked away. Should’ve broken the spell before it burned.
She didn’t. Neither did he. And the silence between them screamed. She blinked a second too late.
Angela saw everything. The detective hadn’t even needed to try—she’d already been watching Tim. She’d seen the tightness in his jaw, the way he inhaled just a little too sharply, the way Lucy turned her head a little too slowly.
And Angela knew Bradford too damn well not to know what it meant. She narrowed her eyes. A slow, smug, far-too-pleased smile curved on her lips.
“Well… that’s interesting.”
Tim shot her a dark look. “Shut up, Lopez.”
Lucy felt her cheeks heat up. She drew in a slow breath, kept her face carefully blank, and made herself walk toward the locker room.
She didn’t have to look to know Tim was still watching her. But they couldn’t afford a second moment like that. Not here. Not now. Not with Angela so close.
She pushed the door open and closed it a little too fast behind her. Then drew in a breath—sharp, shaky.
Calm down. It was stupid. Everything was under control. No one knew anything.
And yet… her heart was still pounding too hard. That look—Tim’s damn look—was still burned behind her eyelids.
She ran a hand over her face, then turned to her locker and opened it with a sharp flick.
Focus on something else.
She took off her jacket, clipped her weapon into the holster, doing everything she could not to think about him. About last night. About the heat of his skin. About the fact that his scent was probably still clinging to her.
Shit.
The locker room door suddenly opened. Lucy didn’t flinch. She didn’t have to. She already knew who had just walked in.
Angela.
The detective leaned casually against the lockers, arms crossed, expression way too neutral to be innocent.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Lucy clenched her jaw and pretended not to notice her. She kept her eyes on her gear like fastening her duty belt was the most fascinating task in the world.
But Angela wasn’t buying it.
“You wanna know something funny, Chen?” she said suddenly.
Lucy let out a quiet breath through her nose. Play it cool.
“Not really.”
“Too late,” Angela replied, her tone too light to be genuine.
She pretended to be thoughtful, but Lucy already knew she was playing with her.
“It’s funny,” Angela went on. “Because Tim had the exact same reaction as you.”
Lucy didn’t move.
Don’t react.
Angela smiled.
“Like… exactly. Same sideways glance, same tension in the shoulders, same way of avoiding the conversation.”
Lucy summoned every ounce of self-control to stay perfectly still. She grabbed her watch and slipped it around her wrist with absurd precision.
Angela watched the performance, clearly amused.
Then she let out a breath—light, casual, too casual.
“So, you two gonna tell me why you’re acting like a couple of teenagers caught making out?”
Lucy closed her eyes for half a second.
Shit.
She opened them again. Control. She couldn’t let this shake her.
She forced a faint smile, shook her head like Angela had just said the dumbest thing on Earth.
“Seriously, Angela…” She slammed her locker shut.
“Don’t you have better things to do than come up with dumbass theories?”
Angela just raised an eyebrow—slow, unimpressed. Definitely not buying it.
“Theories?”
Her grin widened—slow and sharp, like a blade just before it cuts.
“Nope. I just observe. And what I saw was two people acting like they’ve got a secret.”
Lucy laughed—louder than necessary.
“Wow. That’s a leap. You need to stop binging cop shows, Lopez.”
Angela crossed her arms.
“Oh, I’m the one who needs to relax?” Her eyes sparkled. “’Cause if you saw yourself right now… I’m not the one looking tense.”
Lucy held the smile. But the cold sweat down her back was real. Angela was too sharp. If she kept pushing, she was going to land right in the truth.
She had to turn this around. Fast. Her eyes narrowed. Something shifted.
“Wait a second…”
She leaned against the lockers, slow and casual. Too casual.
“Oh god. That’s it.”
Angela’s eyebrow lifted, slow. Something in her gaze sharpened—curious now. She breathed in—slow, deliberate. Just enough to make a point.
“You’re bored, Lopez. That’s what this is.”
Angela blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Lucy didn’t stop. Her tone turned mock-sympathetic.
“It’s kinda sad, actually. You, big bad Detective Lopez, digging around in non-cases because nobody’s giving you any real work.”
Angela pursed her lips. Just a twitch. But Lucy caught it.
Bingo.
She leaned in slightly, just enough to push.
“You want me to ask Grey to give you a real case? A murder? A robbery? Something to keep you from wasting your time on... this?”
Angela narrowed her eyes. Lucy didn’t flinch. She knew she hadn’t won, not entirely. But the shift was there. She’d sown enough doubt to get the heat off.
Angela exhaled, backed off a little, tossed a shrug like she couldn’t care less.
“Maybe.” Her eyes locked on Lucy’s. “You might be right.”
Lucy didn’t blink. Poker face. Controlled. Angela arched a brow, that smirk returning—subtle this time.
“Or you might be wrong.”
No follow-up. No explanation. Just one last loaded look… and she walked out. Lucy only let out her breath when the door clicked shut behind her. Shit. She’d dodged the first bullet. But she knew this was just the beginning.
***
She hadn’t even realized what she was doing. She’d walked out of the locker room, still buzzing from the confrontation with Angela, and her steps had taken her straight to her desk.
Except… it wasn’t her desk. It hit her only once she was already seated. Her fingertips brushed the surface, and a jolt ran through her. Not pain. Just memory.
The smell hit her first. Clean. Familiar. A mix of coffee, cedar, and something warmer she couldn’t name. Something unmistakably him. Her eyes fell to the notepad. The pen. The half-finished cup.
Shit. She was sitting at Tim’s desk. It wasn’t just a desk. It was a ritual. A place her body remembered, even if her mind tried not to. Her throat tightened.
How many mornings had started like this—without her even realizing she’d begun to associate this spot with him? It was stupid. It was everything.
She didn’t move. Just stood there, heart hammering harder than it should. Her fingers pressed into the desk, knuckles pale with tension. She drew a slow breath, trying to anchor herself.
She half-rose—too fast.
“Lucy?”
Snap. Her head jerked up. Celina was standing right in front of her. Lucy blinked, scrambling for an excuse, an explanation—anything. But it was already too late. Celina had seen. Her gaze shifted from the desk to Lucy, then back again, that slight crease between her brows tightening. Confusion, sharp and quiet, flickered in her eyes.
“Why are you sitting there?” she asked, voice low, tentative. Like she wasn’t sure if she was missing something, or walking right into it.
She opened her mouth. Nothing. Just static. Shit—think—anything—but her head stayed blank. Useless.
***
Lucy stared at the road ahead, arms crossed tighter over her chest. She could feel Celina watching her from the corner of her eye. Don’t say anything. Don’t react. But she already knew what was coming.
“Sleep well last night?” Celina asked, tone light.
Lucy tensed—just slightly. She forced a casual expression.
“Yeah. Perfect.”
Too fast. Too firm. Her fingers tapped against her arm—light, restless. She didn’t seem to notice. Her foot bounced once. Then stilled, like she’d caught herself too late. She pressed her lips together, hard. She saw Celina raise an eyebrow. “Hmm,” was all she said. Lucy’s heart kicked up. What the hell was that “hmm”? But she didn’t flinch. Didn’t look over.
Celina turned a corner, her voice still too neutral to be innocent.
“I didn’t come home last night.”
Lucy nodded automatically.
“Yeah, I noticed.”
Instant regret.
Shit. Why had she said that?
Celina raised an amused eyebrow.
“Oh yeah?”
Lucy opened her mouth, scrambling for an excuse.
“I mean… I just noticed this morning, that’s all,” she tried.
“Hmm.”
That damn “hmm” again.
Lucy shifted, spine ticking straighter like it might save her. Her palms were damp against the denim. She clenched her jaw. Released it. Tried to look steady when everything inside her wasn’t.
“Why are you asking me that?” Her voice was light. Too light.
Celina looked at her a second too long.
“I don’t know. You seem… different today.”
Heat crept up Lucy’s neck.
“Different how?”
Celina tilted her head, pretending to think.
“Like… calmer than usual.”
Lucy shrugged.
“And that’s a problem?”
Celina smiled faintly.
“No…” She paused, then added with fake innocence,
“Just… you’re never this chill in the morning.”
Lucy’s brain stalled. Shit.
She let out a light laugh, maybe too casual to be real.
“Wow. So if I’m not stressed out, it means I must’ve done something shady? Really?”
Celina lifted a shoulder, unfazed.
“Just trying to figure out why you seem so relaxed.”
Heat crawled up her chest, tight and sudden. She pressed her nails into her palm. Not hard. Just enough to stay here.
Shit.
TBC.
Notes:
Until Next Time!!
Chapter 6: If She Looks Back
Summary:
They touch without touching, look without seeing, and every second spent pretending there's nothing between them only winds the tension tighter. But tonight, the mask slips. And in that car, in that silence, there's no more hiding—just them, and everything they can’t hold back anymore.
Notes:
Chapter has been fully edited (huge thanks to my beta, even with the tech issues on her side!). I know it came a bit late, but I couldn’t skip it. I love this story — deeply. Writing it, rereading it… it means a lot to me. There’s something in this connection between them, in what they don’t say but still feel, that just sticks with me every time. Thanks for reading, commenting, supporting. It honestly means more than I can ever explain.
Chapter Text
The station was still running at full speed.reports stacking, radio crackling like it didn’t know how to shut up. Lunchtime was creeping in, but Tim wasn’t hungry. Not even close. Just needed coffee. Again.
Lucy and Celina had just come back from patrol. Reports already handed in. But nothing felt steady. Not inside him.
He got up fast, let his pen roll off the desk, didn’t even watch where it landed. Crossed the open space like he didn’t see a damn thing. Break room. That’s where his feet were going. Didn’t care. Just needed quiet. Just… to breathe.
He pushed the door open. And his heart stuttered.
Lucy was there. Back turned. Pouring hot water into a cup. But he saw it—the exact second she registered him. That tiny shift in her shoulders, the pause in her breath. No one else would’ve noticed. He did.
Just seeing her—It knocked something loose in his chest. Sharp. Unfair. He froze. Couldn't move. Just... stared. Breathed. Felt everything in him wind tight like a wire ready to snap. Maybe— Just today— Five minutes. That’s all. Him and her. Just five fucking minutes.
Of course not. Because Nolan was there too. Sitting there like it was just another Tuesday, sandwich half-dead on the table, talking bullshit like he didn’t feel the static in the air.
Tim stepped forward, grabbed a coffee, eyes on the machine like it mattered. Like it was worth pretending. But everything in him was pointed at her. Every damn molecule tuned to the space she wasn’t filling beside him.
Lucy didn’t turn. Didn’t glance his way. But he saw her hand pause around the cup. Just long enough to give her away. Just long enough to kill him.
"And Bailey wants us to organize a dinner with her colleagues this weekend," Nolan was saying, still laughing like none of this mattered.
Lucy smiled. Polite. Composed. Present for everyone. Everyone but him. Tim clenched his jaw. Not at Nolan. Not at Lucy. At himself. Because deep down, he’d wanted her to feel him walk in. To sense him. Turn her head. Give him some excuse—any excuse—to not let her go.
But she laughed. Soft. Like Nolan actually mattered. And Tim just stood there like a damn idiot, coffee burning in his hand, invisible. He downed the whole cup in one shot. Didn’t taste a thing.
Didn’t say a word. Just left.
Back to his desk. Back to the silence he carried around like a weight. He dropped into his chair, heavy, let his bag hit the floor. Opened a file. Closed it just as fast. Tried to type something, anything—three words would’ve been enough. Nothing came.
Around him, the station blurred. Voices fuzzed out. Footsteps grew distant. Everything slowed like the world was pulling away. Like he was.
The afternoon light bled across the floor, thin and useless. He dragged a hand over his face. His stomach twisted. His whole body locked tight with tension. Not now. Not here. Not with people watching.
Someone asked him something. Then someone else. He answered, he thought. Didn’t look up. Didn’t process a word. The longer it dragged, the worse it got. Irritation. Frustration. That bone-deep exhaustion that settles where nothing else fits. The kind that makes you want to break something just to feel the pieces.
Grey walked past. Gave some orders. Tim barely registered them. Everything around him had gone flat, distant— just noise, dulled and fading like background static in a station that no longer felt like his.
He stood up too fast. Didn’t even feel it in his legs until they were moving. Headed straight for the locker room. The slam of the metal door cracked through the empty space. Loud. Sharp. Too loud. It echoed like something inside him trying to get out.
He hit his locker shut again, harder this time. The sound snapped through the silence like it meant something. Like it mattered. He stood there, hands flat against the steel, breathing through his teeth. Tried to hold it down. Flatten it. Make it quiet.
Didn’t work. His shoulders were locked so tight it ached down his arms. Every muscle screaming to move, to hit something, to get out of this body and this day.
Not a glance from Lucy. Not a word. Not even one stupid coincidence to let them bump into each other like it was fate.
He grabbed his clothes with a sharp jerk. Folded the uniform fast, robotic. Stuffed it into his bag like it was evidence he didn’t want to look at.
Jeans. Old dark t-shirt. Whatever. No time to think. Just get moving. He slammed the locker one last time, the echo splitting the room in two. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t pause.
Just walked. Across the cold floor, each step quiet but not soft. Outside, the air hit him different. Thicker. Heavier. Like it had weight now. Like it was dragging everything he hadn't said straight back onto his skin.
Tim tightened his grip around the strap of his bag. Enough time wasted. He knew exactly where he had to go.
***
Lucy slammed the apartment door behind her and leaned briefly against the wood. She was exhausted. But not because of work. All day long, she had wanted to see him.
Just a second. A glance. Anything. She’d spent the whole day with Celina. And Tim with his rookie. Except for that brief moment in the break room. He had been there. So close. And yet so far.
And damn, it had been long. She closed her eyes, took a breath. Okay. Stay normal. She pushed herself away from the door and headed for the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water just to keep her hands moving.
And that’s when Celina appeared. Lucy almost jumped. Shit. She hadn’t even heard her come in.
Celina was watching her. Calm. Too calm. Lucy didn’t flinch. Act normal. Act normal.
" Good day?"
Her voice sounded normal. Maybe too normal. Celina didn’t say a word. Just raised one eyebrow like she already knew the answer.
"Yeah." She crossed her arms. "You look..."
She paused. Stared too long. Too hard.
Lucy took a sip, not looking at her.
"...weird," Celina finished.
Lucy nearly choked. Set her glass down too fast. Too loud.
"Me? No. I'm just tired. Nothing unusual."
Celina narrowed her eyes.
"Are you sure? Because... I don’t know."
Lucy clenched her teeth.
"I’m fine, Celina. Stop staring at me like that."
"I’m not staring."
"You are."
"I’m thinking."
Lucy let out a loud sigh.
"About what?"
Celina tilted her head, pretending to think.
"About why you seem... I don’t know... relaxed?"
Lucy pulled herself together. Fast.
"Is it a crime to be relaxed now?!" she snapped, hands thrown up before she could stop herself.
Celina shrugged.
"I’m just saying... this morning on patrol, you weren’t exactly relaxed. And now, suddenly, you are. Interesting."
Lucy gave her a look. Cold.
"Maybe launch a podcast about me while you’re at it?"
Celina didn’t even blink.
"So. Who’d you talk to before coming home?"
Her chest tightened. Her pulse kicked once, too fast. Too much.
"Yeah," she said, voice flat. "Had a deep conversation with my mirror in the car. Real emotional stuff."
Celina rolled her eyes.
"Alright, fine. I’ll stop."
She turned away, shrugged.
"But I’m keeping an eye on you, Lucy."
Lucy waited until she was out of the way before letting out a discreet breath. Damn. Celina was a real bullshit detector. She grabbed her phone—fingers slightly shaking—and shot off a message.
Lucy : We need to talk. Now.
Tim : I’m already downstairs.
A rush of heat hit her chest like a wave. She dropped her phone on the table, bit her lip hard. Shit. She’d waited all day. And he was already there.
She glanced at her phone again, then drew in a slow breath. Okay. Excuse. Find something. Fast.
She turned toward Celina, who was still in the kitchen, putting away a cup.
Shit. Would’ve been easier if she was already in her room.
Lucy grabbed her keys, tried to stay casual, and said, tone even,
"I’m gonna go pick up a package downstairs."
Celina immediately turned her head toward her.
Lucy forced herself to stay calm.
Don’t freak. Don’t show it.
Celina’s eyebrow was already climbing.
"Package?"
Lucy nodded, confident. Too confident.
"Yeah. Amazon."
She shook her keys like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"They just told me they dropped it off at reception."
Celina squinted.
"Strange, I didn’t hear the intercom."
Lucy shrugged like she hadn’t felt that punch to the gut.
"Because they didn’t buzz. You know how delivery guys are. Sometimes they just leave it and go."
She added a sigh, carefully casual.
"Last time, I found a package three days later, just sitting there."
Celina didn’t answer right away. A second too long. Lucy kept her face still. Completely still. Don’t flinch.
Then Celina shrugged.
"Yeah. Still sounds sketchy."
Lucy rolled her eyes, too hard.
"Celina. It’s Amazon. Not a secret FBI mission."
Celina smirked.
"You’re right."
Lucy didn’t give her a chance to say anything else. She opened the door and stepped out. But just as she was pulling it closed behind her, she caught it—Celina’s voice, low, like she wasn’t supposed to hear it:
"Still feels weird…"
Lucy backed into the wall, eyes shut tight for a second. Just one second. She inhaled. Deep, sharp.Then pushed off the wall and moved. Straight to the elevator. Heading to Tim. And this time, she didn’t need to fake it.
Tim was parked a little further down, on a side street. Engine running.
He was tapping the steering wheel. Not fast. Not slow. Just enough to show he wasn’t okay. Eyes locked on the building’s entrance like it could spit her out faster if he stared hard enough.
The second he saw her step out, the tightness in his shoulders cracked. Not gone. But eased. Finally.
Lucy walked toward the car. Quick. Discreet. She opened the door fast, slid in, shut it behind her before the moment could catch up. Silence. They sat there. Just looked at each other for a few seconds. No words.
But fuck, everything was already there. Lucy let out a breath, sharp and shaky, and dropped her head back against the headrest.
"I thought I was never gonna manage to get out."
Tim gave her a crooked smile. Small, but real.
"Celina?"
Lucy rolled her eyes.
"She’s... unbearable. She catches everything. She stared at me like I was a suspect in an interrogation room."
Tim raised an amused eyebrow.
"And does she have a reason to?"
Lucy turned her head slowly toward him. She knew that tone. She knew that face. She narrowed her eyes.
"Spent too much time with your rookie today? You’re craving provocation or what?"
Tim’s smile widened, barely. But he didn’t answer. He just looked at her. And it was already too much. And fuck. Lucy felt her stomach twist. The mood shifted instantly. Subtle. Silent. But undeniable.
All the frustration of the day slammed into her at once. They were finally alone. Tim took a breath, eyes locked on hers.
"I hated today," he said, low.
Lucy felt her breath catch. Just for a second. She swallowed.
"Me too."
Silence. She looked down. Breathed out. Shook her head once.
"Ridiculous."
Tim smiled. Slow. Crooked.
"Yeah. But it is what it is."
A shiver ran down her spine. She felt him shift—barely—his arm settling on the console between them. His thumb brushed her hand. Barely there. But it scorched. Lucy looked back at him. Her heart was hammering.
Tim murmured, voice lower now, rougher, almost like it hurt to ask:
"What do we do now?"
Lucy opened her mouth. Closed it. She didn’t know. But she knew this—She didn’t want to go.
Not now. Not yet.
She didn’t even have time to think. Tim moved. Sudden. Certain. His hand slid behind her neck, pulled her in. And then—He kissed her. Hard. Urgent. Rough.
Lucy let out a broken breath, caught off guard by the force of the kiss. Then she broke open.
Her fingers clutched at his jacket, yanking him closer like her body had stopped asking for permission. Her lips answered with the same urgency. The same frustration. She felt his hot breath, the pressure of his hand anchoring her, searing through fabric like it was skin.
Fuck.
It was insane. Reckless. Immediate. But it was them. The kiss deepened. Slowed. Got heavier.
Hotter. The world didn’t exist anymore. Not the station. Not the silence upstairs. Not the mess.
Just this car. Just this night. Just them.
Then, slowly, Tim pulled back. Just a little. His forehead stayed pressed against hers.
Their breaths tangled. Uneven. Still too close. Not enough.
Lucy closed her eyes, just for a second. Trying to steady something that didn’t want to be steadied.
She should’ve said something. She should’ve said it was crazy.
But Tim murmured before she could. Voice low. Rough. Barely a breath brushing her lips:
"Fuck, I missed this."
Lucy inhaled, sharp. She opened her eyes. And shit.
She was screwed. The silence between them was thick. Electric. Their breathing still a mess. Tim hadn’t moved. Still there. Forehead against hers. Lucy should’ve pulled back first. She didn’t. She couldn’t.
She closed her eyes again, like that could help. Like maybe that would make it easier to think. None of this was planned. None of it was supposed to happen. But fuck... she wanted more.
Tim finally exhaled, slow and rough, like it cost him something. He let go, slow.
But his fingers caught on her skin like they didn’t want to leave.
Heat flashed through her, sharp and sudden. Lucy forced herself to pull back. Met his eyes. And damn. Mistake.
Because everything was there. Everything he wasn’t saying. Everything he still wanted.
Everything they were doing. Tim tilted his head a little, lips pulling into something close to a smirk.
"You really have a package to pick up?" he murmured.
Lucy let out a quiet laugh, bit her lip.
"You think I lied?"
Tim didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Just smiled. That smile.
She exhaled, shook her head. Grabbed the door handle. Back to reality.
She slipped outside. The cold bit at her skin like a slap. She shut the door, turned—just once. He hadn’t moved. Still watching her. Still there.
Her teeth pressed into the inside of her cheek. Hard.
"Good night, Babe," she murmured. Almost too low to count.
Tim gave her a faint smile.
"Good night, Luce."
Lucy turned. Walked back toward the building.
Didn’t look back. Because if she did… she knew damn well she wouldn’t go back upstairs.
Lucy closed the apartment door behind her. Let out a breath. Quiet. Shaky. Pressed a hand to her forehead. Nothing was under control. Not anymore.
She shoved her hands into her hair, held there, breathing like it mattered.
Then she looked up… ...and froze.
Celina was sitting on the couch. Staring straight at her. Lucy stopped cold. Half a second. Maybe less. But enough.
Celina narrowed her eyes.
"So? Did you get your package?"
Lucy smiled. A little too fast. A little too bright.
"Yeah."
Celina nodded. Slowly. Didn’t look away.
"And what was it?"
Lucy opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Shit.
TBC
Chapter 7: Close Enough to Burn
Summary:
They promised themselves it wouldn't mean anything.
One night. One mistake. But the silence the morning after? It says everything they’re too afraid to admit.
Now Lucy has to lie to Celina, Tim has to survive the break room, and neither of them can breathe without the other.
And the worst part? They’re not ready to stop.
Notes:
This chapter took me a little longer to post.
I’ve been going through a rough time lately, and my beta—worried about me—offered to go through each chapter with me, just to help me feel a little less alone in it.
So here it is, finally.
Still posted, still shared, even if a part of me hesitated after a message on another story hit harder than I expected.
But this fic has been something that made me happy for a long time—so I’m holding on to that.
I really hope you enjoy it, and thank you, truly, for still being here.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The sheet was still warm from his body. She was reliving that night. The one where they had slipped toward each other without asking questions. The one she thought she’d buried—but her body hadn’t.
Lucy reached out, hand searching instinctively across the bed. As if… as if he might still be there.
But the bed was empty.
She opened her eyes. Not in a panic. Not suddenly. Just… slowly. That kind of waking where your body still floats somewhere between dream and reality. The dream was fading. And with it—the warmth. The weight. The presence.
And then something else took its place. Memory. His hands on her skin. His mouth. That kiss in the car—stolen, burning, too short, not enough. His voice, rough, right against her lips:
“Fuck, I missed this.”
She closed her eyes again. Just for a second more. But it wasn’t enough. Her body still carried the trace of him. His mouth. His voice. But the bed was cold now. The emptiness—sharp. The illusion already gone.
And she didn’t have the luxury to hold onto it. A voice echoed from the kitchen. The clink of a spoon. A mug placed a little too hard on the counter.
Celina. Already up. Already alert. And Lucy… still wrecked.
She pushed herself upright, spine pressed against the headboard. Okay. Get it together. You’ve got nothing to hide. Nothing to explain. You just have to survive this morning.
She reached for her phone. No message from Tim. Not yet. She would’ve settled for a simple Sleep okay? Or even just I didn’t. But nothing. And it hurt more than she wanted to admit.
She exhaled, ran a hand through her hair, pushed the blanket off and stood up. It was still early. But her heart was already racing too fast. She threw on a sweatshirt without thinking. She had no idea what she’d say to Celina. But she knew one thing—she had to be perfect.
No cracks. No hesitation.
Because Celina… Celina noticed everything.
Lucy moved through the living room in silence. Barefoot. The floor still cold. Her fingers tugged at her sleeve, slow and absent. Like her body hadn’t realized it yet. Celina was already there. Sitting at the table, half a bowl of cereal in front of her, hair tied up, coffee in hand. Casual. Too casual.
But Lucy knew—nothing was ever truly innocent with her.
“Sleep okay?” Celina asked, not even looking up.
Lucy nodded. A little too fast.
“Yeah. Exhausted.”
Celina raised a single brow—barely. Just enough for Lucy to know she’d seen it. She took a sip of coffee. Then, in a voice far too relaxed to be genuine:
“You’re super calm this morning. Too calm.”
Lucy opened the fridge, trying to mask the tension rising slowly inside her.
“And now being calm is a problem?”
“No. It’s just... usually you’re all over the place. Complaining about cold water. Muttering while you’re looking for your keys.”
Celina took another sip.
“Right now? You’re chill. And you being chill... kinda stinks.”
Lucy shut the fridge a bit too hard and leaned back against the counter. Arms crossed.
“I’m just chill, okay? Stop reading into it.”
Celina finally looked up. Slowly. With that little smile that said too much.
“Hmm. You’re glowing.”
“I…”
Lucy stopped herself. The heat was already rising to her cheeks. She looked away. Celina didn’t say anything else. But her gaze stayed. Watching. Checking boxes, one by one.
***
Her grip on the wheel was too tight. She didn’t loosen it. Couldn’t. Too tight. She hadn’t spoken since they left. Celina, though—strangely calm. A long silence stretched between them—heavy. Charged.
Then, out of nowhere, Celina exhaled softly:
“You’ve never been good at lying. ”
Silence. Her fingers clenched the wheel, tightening like she needed to hold herself together. She didn’t answer.
Celina crossed her arms, still looking out at the road. Totally at ease.
“You can give me all the excuses in the world. Broken elevators. Random detours. I saw your face when you came in last night.”
***
Lucy just kept her eyes on the white line ahead. Don’t flinch. Don’t crack.
Celina smiled.
“You can do whatever you want. You don’t owe me anything. But if you think I won’t figure it out…”
She just shrugged—too casually. Like she’d already won.
“…then you don’t know me at all.”
Lucy breathed in. Slowly. Then sighed, annoyed.
“You’re exhausting.”
“Right back at you.”
But neither of them was really smiling. Still—under the tension, under the game—there was something else. Something softer. A quiet kind of care. A promise that Celina wouldn’t say a word.
At least not yet.
Silence returned—lighter this time. Lucy cast a quick glance sideways.
“Thanks.”
Celina turned her head. A little defensive, just for a second.
“For what?”
Lucy gave a faint smile.
“For nothing.”
And finally, Celina replied. Gently.
“Yeah. Sure.”
***
The station was already buzzing when Tim walked through the doors. No detours. No pause. Just a sigh. He headed straight for the locker room.
He’d barely slept. Spent the whole night staring at the ceiling. And this morning… he was still wearing the same shirt. The one from the night before. The one that still smelled a little too much like Lucy.
He should’ve changed earlier. Taken it off. Let it go. Too late.
He undressed in silence, movements clipped. Almost irritated. Jammed his coffee into the half-open locker. Pulled on his uniform. Slammed the door shut.
Then he crossed the bullpen. Barely nodded at a colleague. Sat down at his desk.
His rookie wasn’t there yet. Good. He didn’t have the patience for him today.
“Wow. Who pissed in your coffee?”
Tim looked up. Angela—arms crossed, watching him with a smirk.
“No one. It just tastes like shit.”
“Same coffee as always,” she said, dragging a chair beside him without asking. “You wanna talk about it?”
He stared at her. Silent. Angela’s grin only grew.
“Because you’ve got the face of a guy who didn’t get his fix.”
Tim raised an eyebrow.
“Fix of what?”
And right on cue—Nyla walked in. Coffee in hand. Perfect timing.
“Lucy.”
Tim froze. Angela nodded.
“Thanks. I didn’t want to be the one to say it that bluntly.”
Nyla settled on the edge of his desk.
“Seriously, man. You went from grumpy to full-on antisocial in under twelve hours. Either you didn’t sleep, or you didn’t get to say goodnight to her.”
He didn’t answer. Which, of course, was the worst thing he could’ve done.
Angela let out a quiet chuckle.
“We saw you yesterday, you know. After she came back.”
Nyla smiled, calm and steady.
“The whole station saw you.”
His grip tightened around the coffee cup. Eyes down. He knew. He knew they knew. But he still hadn’t figured out what to do with that.
“Nothing to say?” Angela asked.
“No.”
“Mmh.”
A silence. Then Nyla, a little softer now:
“It’s not a crime, Tim. You were worried about her, okay? You panicked. We get it. But you can breathe now. She’s fine.”
He closed his eyes for a second. She was right. But that didn’t change the fact that he still felt like the whole thing could collapse if he let go for even one second too long. He was about to say something—or maybe just walk away—when it hit him.
A chill down his spine. She’d just walked in. He hadn’t seen her. Hadn’t heard her. But he knew. His body knew. And a second later—confirmation. Lucy stepped into the bullpen. Uniform perfect. Expression composed. No glance his way.
She greeted two colleagues. Sat at her desk. Started sorting through a file.
Tim watched her from the corner of his eye. Back straight. Jaw tight. Then shifted his focus to his screen like every email on it could decide the fate of the world. Angela leaned in again, voice low and teasing:
“How long are you planning to ignore her before you pass out?”
He didn’t answer. Angela snorted.
“And I thought you were grumpy before. But now? Man… you’re full-on possessed.”
Tim clenched his jaw. Took a sip of coffee. Cold. Perfect. It matched his mood. Nyla came back too—drawn in by the magnetic tension hovering across the bullpen.
“You want us to book you an empty interrogation room?”
“I’m working.” Tim growled, eyes still glued to his blank screen.
Angela leaned in close, dropped her voice near his ear:
“You know she looked at you, right? Just once. But long enough for anyone to notice.”
He looked up. Caught Lucy’s gaze for half a second. She looked away immediately. But he’d seen it. Felt it.
And it made him lose his grip all over again.
***
She’d tried to stay focused. Stick to the protocol. Power through her reports like she didn’t feel him two desks away. But of course she did. And he did too.
When she stood to grab a file from the printer, she told herself not to slow down as she passed him. She failed.
He looked up. Barely. One second. No more. Just enough for her to see it. Just enough to know it hurt.
Watching her walk by. Not being able to stop her. She clenched her teeth. Stay on track. Keep walking. Keep it together. But when she came back—file in hand—he moved.
Barely.
His fingers lifted from the keyboard, just long enough to brush the edge of the file on his desk.
Like that single point of contact might keep him grounded.
And her? She didn’t pause. But her fingers drifted—just for a moment—along the same edge.
Almost by accident. Their hands didn’t touch. But it felt like they had.
A current. A silent jolt. They kept walking. Like nothing had happened. But in their chests, their hearts were beating in sync. He sat back down, eyes locked on the screen. But he wasn’t reading anymore.
And she dropped into her chair, heartbeat too fast, fingers clenched around the file. They hadn’t said a word. Not a single move too much.
But it was enough. Because deep down, they both knew— This was just the beginning.
TBC.
Notes:
This chapter was hard to write.
Not because I ran out of ideas—
but because I ran out of strength, perspective, trust.
And still, it’s here.
Thanks to my beta, who stood by me through a rough patch.
Who helped me stay grounded,
helped me find the words,
helped me believe this story still deserved to be told.So thank you— to her, and to you, if you’re still reading.
I hope this chapter will resonate, even just a little.
Until next time
Chapter 8: She Felt It Before the Call Came
Summary:
They didn’t say it. Didn’t admit what’s still between them.
But when the radio call hits—his rookie, his voice, his absence—
Lucy doesn’t hesitate. Because some silences scream louder than sirens.
And she’s not losing him. Not again.
Notes:
I almost didn’t post this.
Not because it wasn’t ready — but because I wasn’t sure I was.
But sometimes, the weight of a story becomes heavier if you keep it to yourself.
So here it is. Raw, quiet, loud in all the wrong places.
Thank you for reading it.
Chapter Text
She hadn’t moved. Not right away. Not until her fingers stopped trembling around the file. That almost-touch still burned. The sharp edge of the damn folder. Her breath—too short. His—gone now, but she could still feel it. She’d kept her eyes down. Because if their gazes met, they wouldn’t walk away. Not this time.
Around them, the office stirred. Barely. Footsteps. A chair creaking. The brush of fingers over a keyboard. But she only heard one thing: the tension crawling under her skin. The silence between them. The ghost of everything they hadn’t said.
Then Celina’s voice, landing somewhere between neutral and gentle:
"Want to grab some breakfast?"
She hadn’t really answered. A shrug. A fake sigh. But she stood up. Because sometimes, the silence catches fire before the scream. Because running wasn’t strength—but it kept her breathing. No questions. No resistance.
She grabbed her jacket. Her keys. Without really seeing them. The hallway stretched—longer than it should.
Like it knew she was trying to leave. Each step landed too hard. Like the floor was listening. Outside, the air was cold. Damp. Lucy pulled her jacket tighter around her—like it might smother something else inside her.
In the car, she stared straight ahead. Celina stayed quiet. She didn’t need to speak. The engine hummed. The city dragged itself awake.
Groggy. Indifferent. Lucy kept holding her phone—like the silence in her hands was one second from breaking. So she didn’t.
The pavement glistened—like it hadn’t dried from what the morning had spilled. Lucy stepped out first, shut the door without a word.
Tugged her jacket closed—more out of reflex than cold. Then a shiver—not from the wind. Something deeper. Something instinctive.
She looked up. Across the street— A man.
Still. Back turned. Too straight. Too stiff. He wasn’t smoking. Wasn’t on his phone. Just… standing there. And for a fraction of a second, Lucy swore he tilted his head. Just slightly.
But when she blinked, he was gone. Behind a delivery truck. Gone. Like the street had eaten him alive.
Lucy stood still a second too long.
***
Celina called out gently, teasing but not unkind: "You coming in, or planning to grow roots out here?"
Lucy shook her head, swallowing something she couldn’t quite name. "I’m coming."
Her gaze didn’t catch on anything. Just kept sliding past the rain-streaked glass as they stepped in. Almost no one. Just a couple in the back, quiet. And a waitress, bored, thumbing through the paper behind the counter.
Lucy walked ahead. Burnt coffee hit first. Then the bacon—aggressive, like the place didn’t know how to be subtle. Just like always.
"Still the warm, charming heart of Los Angeles," Celina muttered, eyeing the menu on the wall. "Want the cholesterol sandwich or the sodium burrito?"
Lucy gave a faint smile.
"Surprise me."
Celina raised an eyebrow. "You’re giving me full control?"
"No. I’m giving you a responsibility. Use it wisely."
A small silence settled as they placed their order. Her gaze didn’t catch on anything. Just kept sliding past the rain-streaked glass.
Celina sat down across from her.
"You realize you haven’t stopped fidgeting with your phone since we got in the car?"
Lucy looked up. "That’s not true."
"It’s cute. Still not true."
Lucy exhaled. "I just checked the time."
Celina didn’t say anything—just held her gaze, letting the quiet do the rest.
Lucy turned away, eyes following the soft patter of rain against the window.
"I don’t know..." she murmured.
"It’s like… the second I let go, something’s gonna snap. Or blow. I don’t know. I just—can’t."
Celina didn’t say anything. Not right away. Just that stillness again. That way she had of waiting without pushing. Then, gently: "Or maybe it’ll be okay. And you just won’t be ready for what it feels like… when it actually is."
Lucy looked at her. And knew—this wasn’t just about work.
The waitress came back, balancing the grease-stained bags like they were too hot to hold.
Celina stood, grabbed the bags, and threw her a grin.
"Come on, Officer Chen. If you’re gonna save the world, start by not letting your eggs get cold."
Lucy rolled her eyes. But she smiled.
She followed Celina out, coffee warm in her hands, the sandwich still hot through the paper.
***
The car was quiet. No music. No talking. Just the rain tracing lines across the windshield.
Lucy was still holding her coffee. Still warm between her hands. Still full.
She stared, but didn’t really see. Just streetlight haze and a shape her brain didn’t bother to name.
That second was still lodged somewhere in her body. Refusing to leave. Back at the station. About the gesture she didn’t make. Her fingers grazing the file. His fingers, too close. That charge. That split-second before the ground disappeared.
She blinked. The moment faded. But not the weight. Never the weight.
Celina glanced over. No comment. Just half a smile.
"You’ve got that look again. Like… you don’t know if you’re supposed to hold on or just—let it go."
Lucy opened the door.
"Maybe I just didn’t sleep."
Celina smiled as she turned the key.
"Sure. And I moonlight as a royal."
Lucy let out a soft laugh. But deep down, she knew Celina was right.
And then—
"Unit 7-Adam-19, requesting immediate backup on Venice Blvd. Officer down. Repeat, officer down."
Not the usual dispatcher. This voice cracked like it didn’t belong. It was younger. Breathless. Shaken.
And Lucy recognized it instantly.
Miles.
Tim’s rookie.
A chill shot down her spine, locked tight between her vertebrae. She already knew. Didn’t need Celina’s face to confirm it.
Her breath caught.
"It’s Miles. It’s—"
She didn’t finish. She didn’t have to.
If Miles was the voice on the radio… then Tim—
Celina grabbed the radio without hesitation.
"7-Adam-45, en route to Venice Blvd."
Lucy slammed her foot on the gas, the engine roaring through the street. She couldn’t see anything but the lights ahead, windshield fogged with panic. And that voice. Miles’s voice. A kid trying to stay in control… while already losing his TO.
The siren light flickered across the windshield a second before they turned the corner. Lucy’s stomach twisted hard. Venice Boulevard was sealed off. Patrol cars everywhere. An ambulance with its doors wide open. Two officers holding back a crowd. A stretcher, gaping open. Waiting. Radios hissing in every direction.
But no Tim.
She hit the brakes hard, jumped out of the car almost at a run, not waiting for Celina to say a word. Her eyes scanned the scene like a weapon. Uniforms. Blood on the pavement. And ten meters ahead… a ballistic vest. Thrown on the ground, half-folded on itself. His.
Lucy froze. A ringing filled her ears—louder than the radios, louder than the sirens. Her heart pounded so violently she lost her balance for a second.
Not this. Not him. She took a step forward.
And then she saw Miles.
He was on the curb. Hands yanked into his hair. Blood drying in streaks down his cheek. Alive. Shattered. Alone.
She moved toward Miles without even feeling her legs. Her heartbeat stumbled all over itself—fast, uneven, painful in ways she couldn’t place.
“Miles.”
His head stayed down. Like lifting it would’ve cost too much. His shoulders were shaking. Dried blood on his neck, on his sleeve. But no eye contact. No voice. Just emptiness.
“Miles!”
This time, he flinched. His eyes finally met hers—blurry, dull.
“I… I tried. I told him to wait for backup. He didn’t…”
He shook his head.
“He went down, Officer Chen. He—”
She wasn’t listening anymore. She’d already turned. Already moving. Past the cars, the officers, the yellow tape. Her eyes scanned—searching, desperate. But she still didn’t see Tim. Only blood. And that damn vest.
She crossed the scene without hearing the voices. No one stopped her. Maybe they saw her badge. Or maybe they saw her face. Her feet moved before her mind caught up. She just—had to find him. Only that she had to find him.
Her gaze landed on an officer, slumped on the ground, held up by two others. Same build. Same hair. Same uniform. She stopped dead. Her heart exploded in sa poitrine. She took a step. Legs unsteady. Breath caught.
But it wasn’t him.
Not Tim.
Not yet.
She was about to walk around the truck when a hand caught her arm. Not rough— but firm. Enough to stop her. She turned—air gone, chest locked.
Angela.
Not in uniform. Not ready. But there. And her face— Lucy had never seen her like that.
The ground shifted under her feet.
“Where is he?” she breathed, her throat tight.
“Where’s Tim?”
Angela didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her. Too long. Then finally said,
“Go to the hospital. Now.”
Chapter 9: The Space Between
Summary:
Lucy drives blind, caught between panic and silence.
At the hospital, one sentence changes everything: He’s alive.
But waiting isn’t peace.
It’s what’s left when you’re not sure he’s still breathing.
Notes:
I almost didn’t post this. Not because I didn’t believe in the scene, but because, for a while, I let a few careless comments get in my head. When people say your writing "sounds like AI," it sticks—especially when you’ve poured every inch of yourself into the silence between the words.
I held this one back. My beta didn’t let me. She said it deserved to be read.
So here it is. Soft. Quiet. Terrifying to share. But mine.
Thank you if you read it. Really.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The flashing lights blurred slowly in the rearview mirror. But inside, everything was still screaming.
Lucy was driving too fast. She didn’t care. Signs, traffic lights, speed—they didn’t exist anymore.
Celina was talking, somewhere beside her. But Lucy couldn’t hear a thing. She couldn’t see the road. Just that one sentence.
Go to the hospital. Right now.
She’d been repeating it to herself ever since Angela said it. Over. And over. And over.
But never what she really needed to hear. Never: he’s okay . Never: he’s alive .
Her heart was pounding—so loud, she could feel it echo inside her chest. Like it wanted out. Like it was screaming for her.
Her fingers clung to the wheel. Knuckles pale. Hands shaking.
Her breath—choppy. Too short. Too sharp.
She wasn’t crying. Not yet. She didn’t have the right. Not until she saw him.
The radio was still crackling on her shoulder, but it had turned into background noise. Celina had taken over. She was handling it.
Lucy just... kept going. Meter by meter. Blind.
The city slipped past. She didn’t register a thing.
The GPS had kicked in on its own. Memorial. She didn’t even glance at it. She knew the way. Like her body had memorized it. Like her heart had run there a thousand times. And now it beat too fast.
Everything spun inside. Too fast.
Fragments.
The vest on the ground. The blood. Miles. His broken voice. He went down. He went down.
And Tim.
Fuck.
Tim.
She saw him. In her head. Standing. In uniform. Complaining because she’d forgotten her radio. Or because she’d put too much sugar in his coffee. She could hear him laugh. That quiet, restrained laugh. Too short. Too hidden to believe in.
She could still feel his arms around her. Not a distant memory. It was recent. Just a few nights ago. And now… nothing. Nothing left. She didn’t even know if she’d see him again. Alive.
She swallowed. Barely. The hospital sign came into view at the end of the street. She took the turn too fast. The tires screeched. The parking lot was nearly empty. She pulled in crooked. Harsh. Without thinking. Killed the engine.
Her hands stayed on the wheel. Still. One second. Maybe two. Her body… stuck. Frozen. Getting out meant admitting. That there was an after. As long as she stayed there… he could still be breathing. Maybe.
One breath. Then another. And then—she opened the door.
Her boots hit the ground hard. She crossed the lot. Running. Out of breath. Frayed. Her heart ready to give out.
***
The automatic doors opened with a burst of cold air. Lucy stepped inside. Didn’t stop. The lobby hit her all at once. Too bright. Too sharp. A silence that stuck to your skin. Everything gleamed. Everything stank of clean.
She hated that smell. Disinfectant. Emptiness.
Her eyes swept the room. Fast. Instinctive. A desk. Two nurses. A guy in scrubs, on the phone. Gurneys further back. A broken coffee machine.
And Grey. Standing. In plain clothes. Arms crossed. Waiting for her.
She froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not him. Not now. He wasn’t even supposed to know. But he was. And he knew.
Their eyes met. And her stomach flipped. Hard. He didn’t need to speak. She saw it all on his face. The tension held tight. The shadows under his eyes. And that invisible weight lodged between his shoulder blades—what he was carrying but hadn’t put down.
She walked toward him. She couldn’t wait. Not a second more.
"Where is he?" Her voice came out rough.
Worn. Barely hers.
Grey looked at her for a beat. Like he was weighing each word before letting it go. Then:
"In surgery."
Steady. Flat. Sharp.
He wasn’t supposed to be here—she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. But Grey kept going. Softer. Lower. Barely anything:
"He's alive."
And her whole body gave out. Not completely. Just enough for her knees to buckle. Slightly.
She lowered her eyes. Took a slow breath. And clung to that sentence. Like a lifeline at the edge of the drop.
Grey didn’t move. He let her breathe. Just that. A few seconds.
Then his voice, again.
"Shoulder wound. It’s serious. But he was conscious when they brought him in."
She closed her eyes. One second. No more. To keep from falling. Not here. Not now.
Grey kept going. Stronger. Steadier:
"He’ll pull through."
She nodded. That was all she had left.
"If you want to sit… I’ll stay. We’ll wait together."
Lucy looked up at him. And in that silence, there was something else. Not just compassion. Not just respect. Something deeper. Rougher. Something that said, without saying it: You’re not alone.
It was there. Between them. Wordless. Instinctive. Like a promise made without being spoken.
Lucy nodded again. But her legs… didn’t. They wouldn’t move. Frozen. In the middle of the hallway. Like moving would break something.
Every part of her was screaming to go see him. To push past that door. To ignore the rules.
But she didn’t move. She swallowed her panic. Lowered her gaze. Slipped her hands into her pockets. To hide the shaking. Grey stayed silent. Still. He understood. Not now.
She turned, slowly. Toward the nearest wall. Leaned against it. Like standing had become too much. Her shoulders, still straight. Her face, frozen. No muscle twitching. But her eyes— they were giving out.
She was staring at something. A glint on the glass. A stain on the floor. Anything. But that wasn’t what she was seeing. It was him. Him, on a stretcher. Him, behind those cold walls. Him, with a bullet in his shoulder. Maybe on morphine. Maybe asleep. Maybe—
Her fists clenched deep inside her pockets. Thinking beyond that? No. Not now. She held on to what she had. This moment. Grey. That sentence.
Thin. But vital: He’s alive.
She didn’t say a word. One word, and it could all fall apart. She could feel it. She breathed in. Long. Not enough. Straightened up. Just a bit. And did what she knew best: wait. In silence. Sealing every crack. One by one.
Time had lost its shape. Minutes stretched. Looped. Turned in on themselves. Lucy had stopped looking at the clock. Too much emptiness in the numbers.
She had stayed on her feet. Too long. Then, without thinking, she sat down. On a plastic chair. Cold against her thighs.
Celina had vanished somewhere down the hallway. Grey had stayed. Not too close. Not too far. Just there.
She hadn’t taken out her phone. Hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t moved. Her hands rested on her knees. They trembled sometimes. Barely. But she felt it. And forced her whole body to stay still.
Sometimes, she blinked without realizing. And the images came back. Sharp. Tim. That morning. That damn half-smile. His fingers brushing hers in the car. The quick kiss before he left with Celina. His voice on the radio, the night before. Alive. Present.
And now— the void. A wall. A door. And nothing behind it. Nothing certain. She had always wondered what it felt like.
Waiting. Like this. Between life. And what’s left.
Now she knew. It wasn’t silence. It was everything you shove into it. Everything the mind makes up to fill the absence.
She kept her gaze steady. Not on Grey. Not on the floor. Not on that damn door. Nowhere.
Notes:
Thanks for reading all the way through the quiet.
Chapter 10: He’s alive. But now what?
Summary:
She sees him. Breathing. Alive. Broken, but still there. And suddenly, everything she held in place starts slipping.
There are no big declarations. Just the truth in her hands, trembling. He made it. But Lucy doesn’t know how to let go of the fear that kept her standing.
Not yet.
And outside that hospital room—not everyone is done watching her.
Notes:
A few words before we begin...
This chapter just came back from my beta—who lives on the other side of the world (yes, land of kangaroos). She believes in She Came Back. Says it’s beautiful. Worth sharing. Maybe I should believe her.
But lately? It’s been hard. Hard to believe my words matter. Some comments shook what little confidence I had.
And still—I’m here. Still writing. Because this story means something. Because it held me when I needed it. Because it speaks of love, fear, loss—and what remains when everything else breaks.
So if something in this chapter stays with you, even just a moment— Let me know.
Your comments and kudos are my only reward. And some days… they’re the reason I keep going.
Do you have a favorite line? A moment that hit? I’d love to hear it. Thank you for being here.
Chapter Text
Steps—sharp. Purposeful. No time to wait. Her head snapped up before she knew why. Blue scrubs, wrinkled. Tablet in one hand. A hospital badge near his collar, flashing once, then gone. He didn’t slow.
He came right at them. Met Grey’s eyes. Nodded—short, sharp—and stopped. Right there. Lucy stood. Just like that. Before her brain caught up. Like some wire inside her snapped and pulled her upright. She wasn’t sure she’d taken a breath since the hallway.
Angela was there too now. Silent. Arms crossed, stiff across her chest. Eyes locked forward. Watching. Her face—pale. Drawn tight. But calm. Too calm. The kind that scared Lucy more than panic.
The doctor glanced at them. Screen still lit in his hand.
“Sergeant Bradford made it out of surgery. Bullet’s out. The wound’s bad. But clean. No vital organs.”
Just like that, the world blinked. Off beat. Like it wasn’t sure it could start again. Lucy’s knees shifted. Not enough to fall. Just a warning. Her body buzzing. Overloaded. The wait. The stillness. The fear she hadn’t had time to name.
But she didn’t fall.
“He’s in recovery. Next hours are key—for pain, movement. He’s awake. You can go in. One at a time.”
Nobody answered. Grey nodded. Angela followed. Then they turned. To Lucy.
No words. No pressure.
Just— Go .
Her body twitched forward, like it had already said yes. But her mind stayed behind. Somewhere between the doctor’s voice and the silence that followed, the world had stopped spinning.
She wasn’t sure it had started again.
She didn’t. Not yet. Stood there while something inside caught up—fear, mostly. Sharp. Mean. Long enough to imagine every wrong outcome. What he might look like. What he might say. What he might not .
She took in a breath. Not to calm down—just to stay together. Then moved.
The doctor had already turned. She walked. No questions. Didn’t need to. Her chest felt heavy like something had kicked back to life inside. Not smooth. Not fast. Just there again. Beating.
The hallway stretched too long. Each step slapped the floor unevenly, Like her own steps didn’t trust the floor.
She stayed quiet. Not from choice—but because no words would’ve made sense. Just kept close, like she wasn’t sure the ground was real.
The doctor stopped at a door.
“He’s out of it. But conscious. Just… be gentle.”
She gave the smallest nod. Talking might’ve broken something loose. Her hand found the door handle. Cold under her skin. It registered, but didn’t land
She stayed there. Just a breath. Just a second. The kind you take before the ground changes shape.
Then she stepped in. Dim lights. Quiet air. Machines whispered in corners—rhythms too clean for how her chest felt, breathing slow. But none of it cut through the mess in her chest. And there he was. Flat on the bed. Head turned a little toward the window. Bandages wrapped around his shoulder.
For a second—nothing. Just white.
White sheets. White light. White noise behind her ribs.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
The word stuck. Not to reassure. Just to exist. Like her brain had latched on before the rest could catch up.
Then came the IV line. Sunk into his arm. Wires stretched across skin, feeding into quiet machines. And that clear tube under his nose—thin, almost invisible. Almost. But not to her. To her, it meant everything. Still breathing. But something inside him had changed.
His eyes were cracked open. Half there. Breathing, but not really with her yet. She wanted to say his name. To let him know. But her throat jammed. Any word felt like it’d snap whatever was holding her up.
So she didn’t say anything. He turned his head. Slow. Found her eyes. Held them. And the world… shifted. No noise. No crash. Just a breath. Soft. Like something loosening inside him.
And in his face—that look. The one that still recognized her. Knew her.
He smiled. Barely. Worn-out. He smiled. Not because it was over. Not even because it would be. Just… because she’d come.
“Hey.”
His voice rasped. Thin at the edges. She moved. One step. Then another. By the third, she was beside him. Close enough to touch. Close enough to break wide open. Her hands stayed shoved into her jacket. Like reaching out too soon would tear her apart.
She didn’t know if she could. Or if she should. If touch would hold her together or undo it all.
“I almost lost you,” she breathed out.
Not even a sentence. Just noise, shaped like truth.
He closed his eyes. Then opened them again. Slower.
“I thought I lost you too.”
She dropped her gaze. His hand was there, just resting. Not clenched. Not reaching. Just... there. His thumb twitched once. Like he didn’t know if it was okay to want more.
She moved her hand. Careful. Almost shy. Like some feral part of her still thought he might pull away.
Her fingers found his. Light. Barely touching. But it lit something under her skin.
Not sharp. Just… real. Like something under her skin had woken up. Like her body remembered, finally, how to feel.
He didn’t pull away. Didn’t grip, either. Just… let her be there. And inside her, something moved. Quiet. Not a crack. Not a snap. Just the tiniest shift—like something leaking out through a crack she hadn’t felt until now. A tear slid. Down her cheek. She didn’t move.
“I can’t go through that again, Tim.”
Her voice—low. Almost calm. Too calm. She kept her eyes on him. For a second, the words just hung there. Like something too big to fall.
“I know,” he murmured. “Me neither.”
She didn’t move. Still touching him. Light. Careful. Like loosening her fingers might pull something else loose with them.
Her eyes lifted—slow. Color had crept back into his face. Not much. Shadows still clung under his eyes. That line between his brows—deep. Tired. And the oxygen line still hooked under his nose—clear, thin. Harmless-looking. She thought of that time he’d refused a mask during training. Said it made him feel like he was drowning. And now— Her breath hitched.
To her, it screamed. That he was alive, yeah—but not untouched. That he was here. But not all the way. Still—he was here . She didn’t get how her chest hadn’t split wide open. Every breath felt stuffed. Like her ribs weren’t enough.
Then his voice came again. Rough, but steady now.
“Of course you broke every speed limit.”
Her mouth twitched—half a breath short of laughing. Almost. But it jammed in her throat. She nodded. Barely. A flicker of something close to a smile.
“Two red lights,” she said. “Maybe three.”
He blinked. And for half a second, his eyes lit. Not much. Just enough to show something in him had stayed.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
She pulled in a breath. Shallow. Slow. Heavy. Didn’t fix anything. Didn’t have to. But for the first time, she wasn’t falling. She almost told him. That she’d never left. That there wasn’t a single version of this where she wouldn’t have come. But the words clogged up. Stuck deep in her throat.
So she let them die quietly. And sat down at the edge of the bed.
Close.
Her movements slowed. Not because she meant to. Because she didn’t trust her own limbs. She watched for the bandage. Didn’t want to shift what was barely holding. Her gaze dropped. His hand was still tangled with hers.
She could’ve left it like that. Let the silence say it all. Let her grip be the only thing that stayed. But instead, her voice came—barely. Like a thread you almost don’t hear pulling loose.
“You can’t do that to me again.”
Silence.
He closed his eyes. Like he needed a second. Or five. Just to let it land. Let the weight press where it needed to. When he opened them, his face was open too. Nothing tucked away.
“I know.”
She looked down. Shook her head. Just a little. Not in doubt—just in recognition. Of the life they’d chosen. Promises like that? They don’t mean much. Not when tomorrow could yank it all out from under you. But she wasn’t asking him to survive. Not this time.
She was asking him not to vanish. Not to shut the door behind his ribs and leave her outside. Not to hide again. Like he always did when it got too close. She looked up. He was still watching.
This time, she didn’t wait. Just tightened her grip. Not rough. Just… enough. So he’d feel it. So he’d know.
“I was scared.”
He nodded. Just once. Barely more than a twitch. But she felt it. Down to the bone.
“Me too.”
Silence again. But not empty. Heavy with things unsaid. They were close. Circling it. That thing neither of them had believed in anymore. That fragile shape they thought they’d buried.
Then— A knock. Soft. The door cracked open, slow. Lucy didn’t turn. She didn’t have to.
She already knew.
The voice was soft. Careful.
“Sergeant Grey and Detective Lopez would like to see you... just for a few minutes.”
She felt Tim’s gaze shift. Like maybe he’d speak. Maybe he’d ask her to stay. But she raised her hand. Barely. Didn’t need more. That was enough.
She stood. Slow. Her fingers let go of his—too fast. Too sharp. Like something ripped under the skin. Not bleeding. But raw.
She turned. The nurse had stepped back. Grey and Angela were there now. Angela offered a small smile. Lucy didn’t return it. Not out of shame. Not out of guilt. Just—she couldn’t break here. Not now. Not in front of them.
She inhaled. Straightened. Met his eyes again. Still there. Eyes on her. Unmoving. Almost anchoring. No haze. No meds in the way. Just that stripped-down way he had, sometimes—like nothing else existed but what passed between them.
She held his gaze. One second. Two. Then she let it fall away.
“I’ll give you guys a moment,” she said. Voice small, but even.
Angela shifted. Brow pinched.
“Lucy, you can stay, you kn—”
“But I need some air.”
She turned. Halfway. Tim’s eyes were still on her. Not holding her back. Not asking anything. Just… watching. Because she was her.
And in that look— There was something she wasn’t ready to face. Not yet. She dropped her gaze. Then moved. Not fast. Not running. Like she was backing away from something too fragile—too holy to rush. Something sacred. One step too many, and it might’ve cracked.
The hallway stretched. Wide. Empty. Her footsteps didn’t make a sound worth remembering.
The trembling came back. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just there again. Under the skin. And this time she didn’t hide it.
A man passed by the vending machines. Blue scrubs. Clean badge. Everything neat. In place. Except his eyes. Too still. Too focused. Not curious. Not warm. Just… watching.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t say a word. But their eyes met. Caught. Hung there a second. Maybe more. Then he turned. Left. Deliberate. Like he wanted her to see him go. Lucy froze. Just for a breath. Enough to feel something twist in her gut. Like a thread pulling tight.
But her body moved forward before her brain had time to follow. There were other things. Closer things. She didn’t think about him. Not yet. Then the air hit her.
Cold. Hard. The contrast slapped her skin. She flinched. Breath catching in her chest.
Still—she didn’t stop. She walked. No path. No destination. Just— Get out. Of the room. Of her skin. Of all of it. Away. From the pressure still curled inside her. From the moment everything had started to unravel.
Each step took a little more. Like her body was catching up to what her mind had refused to admit.
She didn’t even notice the edge of the parking lot. Only the floodlight overhead. Too sharp. Colors wrong. Flattened. Somewhere far—an ambulance screamed. Closer, a nurse crushed out a cigarette like it was just another break.
Life moved on. Didn’t make it easier to breathe. She stopped. Back against the wall. And then—everything let go. Her hands shook. Her breath came short. Her shoulders jolted, again and again, without warning.
The weight she’d carried cracked open. And the tears came. Not soft. Not slow. Hot. Rough. Ripping through her. Not graceful.
They weren’t the kind you clean off your face. They were the kind that claw their way out. No grace. Just pain. The kind built from silence. From pretending you were fine. From standing too long on legs that had nothing left.
She covered her mouth. Tried to catch the sound. It still got through.
Her knees buckled. She slid down the wall. Clumsy. Quiet.
She wasn’t angry. Wasn’t lost. Not exactly hurt. Just—terrified. So, so scared.
He was alive. It was done. But the weight she’d carried didn’t know how to leave. Didn’t know how to stop holding her up now that she didn’t need it.
The sobs came raw, wordless—like her voice had no part in them. Face tilted toward nowhere. Her fingers curled tight in her jacket. Like if she let go, she’d fall apart for real.
She’d made it. To the other side. But she didn’t know what it had cost her to get there. Farther back, under the overhang— A shift. No sound. No warning. Gone, like they’d never been there. Like they weren’t supposed to be seen.
Not yet. Minutes passed. Celina stepped outside, phone in hand. Ready to call. She didn’t have to.
She saw her. Right there. Against the wall. Curled in on herself. Eyes blank. Shoulders trembling. Tears that didn’t care who was watching.
The kind that don’t want catching. The kind you don’t try to wipe. Celina stopped. Every part of her screamed to move. To go to her. Say something. Reach out.
But she didn’t. She stayed. Close. But not too close. Because Lucy didn’t need words. Didn’t need comfort or hands or warmth.
She needed this. To fall apart. On her own. No permission. No spotlight. No one trying to hold her up. So Celina stepped back. One step. Then another. And turned away. No sound. No question. She wouldn’t ask. Not tonight.
Because sometimes— The bravest thing is not reaching out. Is knowing when someone finally needs the space to break.
Later, lit only by the blue of her screen— Lucy’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message:
Let’s call it a coincidence. We’ll talk soon.
She read it. Didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. No fear. No heat. But something deep inside her coiled. Tight. Watching. She locked the screen. Slid the phone away.
And this time— Her hands didn’t shake.
Chapter 11: She Didn’t Answer. He Stayed.
Summary:
She made it home, but the silence stayed.
Tim waits, not knowing how to reach her—only that he has to.
Notes:
Sorry for the delay — this chapter was harder to write than all the others. Between classes and my internship, it hasn’t been easy, but I held onto it as best I could.
I wrote this with something that still hurts. If it resonates, even a little, then maybe it was worth it. Thank you for reading. I’m not okay — but this is me.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Grey stood outside, arms folded tight, his face giving away nothing. He looked wrecked. Like sleep hadn’t touched him in days. Or maybe just didn’t give a damn anymore.
He took one slow step forward. He looked at Lucy and didn’t look away.
He spoke. Flat voice. No warmth in it.
“You're off duty. Go home. That's an order.”
Lucy blinked and tried to respond, but nothing came out. So she nodded instead, barely noticeable. Grey caught it; it seemed enough for him, or close to it.
But it didn't really feel like a yes. More like something inside her gave way, too tired to keep holding on.
Célina turned to Grey, question written in her posture.
“What about me…?”
He cut in quietly, firmly:
“Go with her. We'll talk tomorrow.”
Nobody moved after that. The hallway opened wide, stark and too bright, with nothing to fill the emptiness. Further down, two figures approached: Nolan, Nyla just behind.
Nolan seemed lost, like the floor had disappeared under his feet. Nyla moved with steadiness, though the effort behind each step showed. They didn't hurry, as if whatever had happened was already done and behind them—or they needed desperately to believe it.
“Lucy…”
Nolan's voice came out worn, frayed.
“We heard about Tim.”
Lucy didn't answer immediately. She lifted her eyes slightly, just enough.
“He's alive,” she said, but the words caught. Stuck halfway. She pushed her voice steady, like anything softer might break her again.
Célina reached out slowly and laid a careful hand on Lucy’s arm.
“Let's go,” she said.
No one spoke after that. Words felt pointless, inadequate.
The car had been parked outside for some time—long enough to lose track. Engine off, headlights dark, and inside, neither Lucy nor Célina seemed ready to move.
Célina sat with hands loose on her knees, gaze unfocused. She wasn't waiting for anything specific, but Lucy had quietly fallen apart beside her.
It had come silently, without warning. One second Lucy held herself together, and the next, the tears took control. They came slow at first, relentless, needing no permission.
She’d turned toward the window, pressing her forehead against the glass, as though the cold could reach in and numb whatever hurt inside. Her shoulders trembled, soundlessly.
And the silence hurt. Too much inside it. Too much she couldn’t name, couldn’t push out. Not like this. Not yet.
At some point, the radio came back on by itself, something soft and gentle—Taylor Swift maybe, or a similar voice, fragile, trying to speak the things people couldn’t name.
Célina normally liked that kind of music. Tonight it felt wrong. Her hand went straight to shut it off.
She didn't say anything. She knew better. At times like these, words were pointless. No gesture would land right. So instead, she simply rested her hand, palm open, in the empty space between them. Not asking for anything, just quietly telling Lucy she wasn't alone.
Lucy didn't reach for her hand. But she didn't pull away either.
They stayed that way, lost in time, until Lucy abruptly opened the car door and stepped outside without a word, arms pulled tightly around herself, jaw clenched, tears still fresh on her face. She didn't look back.
Célina followed silently moments later.
At the apartment door, Lucy fumbled shakily in her pocket for keys. Célina didn't help, sensing Lucy needed this moment, something to hold onto, whatever it meant.
Inside, the silence remained. Lucy moved through the living room without looking around, as though the space had lost its familiarity. Everything felt foreign, too quiet, as if even the walls held their breath.
She disappeared into her room without turning on the lights or removing her jacket. The darkness felt easier, gentler perhaps, in some twisted way.
She turned to the wall. Faced nothing. Waited. As if the bed could swallow her whole. Or just take her far enough she didn’t have to feel this.
An alarm went off suddenly, outside—loud, meaningless. Her body reacted instantly, as though it had expected it. Beneath her skin, other sounds lingered: the dispatcher's panicked voice, her own breathing, the shaking hands. All of it still there, hidden and raw.
Her eyes opened wide. She shook her head gently, trying to dislodge whatever had stuck itself inside.
It was supposed to be over now, wasn't it? The shooting had stopped, he'd survived.
She felt the phone's weight, cold and switched off in her pocket. She could have turned it on immediately, had considered it, but hadn't yet. Something was holding her back, something she couldn't quite name. She'd switched it off instinctively, because the phone was full of him—his voice, his messages, his absence—and she wasn't ready to face that again.
***
Night had arrived quietly, suddenly, unnoticed, filling Tim’s hospital room. The silence had grown thicker, heavier, like the air itself refused to move.
Angela and Grey had left hours ago, taking with them the polite tension, gentle touches, and careful words meant to ease the silence. Now, it was just Tim, alone, with a quiet he couldn't shake.
Sleep hadn’t even crossed his mind. He just stared. Blank. The same thoughts, again and again. Useless to fight them—they always came back.
Lucy hadn't messaged him. Not a word. Not even the smallest sign she'd made it home.
He'd waited too long, letting the quiet settle beneath his skin.
He'd have accepted anything. A word, even silence—as long as it meant she was still there. But this was different. This was absence, pressing constant and heavy against his chest.
He turned slowly, gaze landing on the phone on the bedside table. Still off, still there.
Careful not to shift too much, he reached slowly with his left hand—the only one he could move without sparking pain.
Still, his right shoulder responded sharply, mercilessly. He clenched his jaw, held his breath until it subsided just enough to try again, even slower, until his fingers brushed the edge of the phone.
All that effort for a phone—ridiculous, he thought bitterly. But calling a nurse to help felt worse. He didn't want help. He just needed Lucy. Even just her voice, something to prove she was still there.
The screen lit up. Blank. Just the numbers. Cold, flat. Brutal in their own way.
Just as he prepared to check the call log, the door opened quietly behind him, making him flinch enough for the phone to shake in his grip.
The nurse stepped in calmly, tray in hand, untroubled.
“Sergeant Bradford, it’s time to change the dressing.”
He didn't respond immediately, carefully placed the phone aside, and murmured:
“Yeah… okay.”
She moved quietly, unhurried, precise. She knew silence well, understood men like him, tired in a way sleep wouldn't touch. But she sensed something deeper, more private in him.
He stared upward while she changed the bandage. Jaw tight, thoughts elsewhere—still fixed on Lucy, no matter how he tried to distance himself.
Finished, she stepped back slightly, expression softening gently.
“Do you need anything else?”
He paused, slowly returned to himself, shook his head just once.
“No… thanks.”
She left softly, door closing quietly behind her.
Immediately, he reached again for his phone. His heart beat too fast, leaving him exhausted from the effort. The words felt stuck, tired of being held back, circling endlessly inside him. He typed them clumsily, deliberately unpolished—just what he had to say, what he couldn’t bear alone any longer.
I know you need time. But I'm here, Luce. Even if you don't answer. Even if you can't hear me right now.
He read it once. Didn’t change a thing. Didn’t care. Pressed send. Then turned the phone off before it could prove him right.
A knot formed tight in his throat. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t ease anything. Lucy remained, deeply felt in the silence. He knew exactly what this quiet meant—locked from the inside, difficult to reach.
He waited longer, letting the emptiness expand. Eventually, he picked up the phone again. Turned it on slowly, promising himself it wasn't to check for her, not again.
He opened the contact list, thumb hovering a moment before pressing Célina's name.
One, two, three rings.
“Hello?” Her voice soft, uncertain.
He exhaled heavily.
“It’s Tim.”
A short pause, real, filled the line.
“Are you okay?”
He tried to say yes, couldn't. Instead, asked what mattered:
“Is she with you?”
Célina looked toward Lucy’s door, noticing the thin line of light beneath it.
“Yeah… she’s in her room.”
Tim’s voice tightened painfully.
“She’s not answering. Not texts. Not calls.”
A pause.
“Tim…” Célina heard the muffled sob from behind Lucy's door, deep, undeniable.
“She’s crying,” she whispered gently. “She’s scared. Just give her time. But stay. Please.”
“I wasn't planning to,” he whispered back.
He ended the call slowly, carefully. Only then, alone, did the tears come. Silently, letting the night take them. And somewhere else, Lucy finally allowed herself to cry too.
***
Morning came quietly. The light slipped in gently, softening the room. Lucy hadn’t moved. She lay still, eyes open, staring at nothing. The tears had stopped, but she felt emptied out, hollowed, like something in her had finally surrendered.
But her mind wouldn’t slow down. Thoughts spun restless circles she couldn’t interrupt. And in the middle of them all was Tim.
Her phone remained exactly where she'd left it. Still turned off. She hadn't touched it since coming home. Turning it back on now felt like acknowledging something she wasn't ready for.
She wasn’t sure what to say to him. Not yet. Not really. Of course she loved him—nothing could change that. But something inside her had shifted, had fractured quietly during the night.
The fear had twisted itself into something different: because he was alive, yet still hurt. Because she’d almost lost him. And now that he was still here, she didn’t know how to hold onto that—onto him. Not the same way. Not yet.
A quiet sound came from the kitchen. Just barely there—Célina.
Last night, Célina hadn't said anything. She’d stayed silently close, with that steady presence Lucy trusted. Now the day had begun, bringing a new kind of quiet, gentler maybe, but steady and persistent.
She knew she couldn’t stay under the covers forever. But she didn’t move. Not yet. She just… stayed there. Letting the ceiling blur. Letting the weight press down a little longer.
Slowly, she pushed the blankets away. Every movement felt weighted down, muscles aching from everything they’d held onto. Sitting up took effort; she braced herself against the table, hands shaky, uncertain.
Her fingers brushed the phone. She didn't switch it on immediately, just held it close. Her chest tightened, breath uneven, caught somewhere between fear and something quieter but harder to dismiss.
After another breath, she pressed the button. The screen lit up sharply in the dim room.
One message. Just one.
I know you need time. But I'm here, Luce. Even if you don't answer. Even if you can't hear me right now.
Her breath caught. Something cracked. Just a little. Like his words knew where to land. And she didn’t even know she was still breakable.
And then she broke again. Tears rose fast this time, unstoppable, washing away everything—silence, heaviness, resistance.
The fear stayed underneath. It always did. But now, quietly, something else took shape beside it—something fragile that could almost have been hope.
She didn’t fight it anymore. She let it come, let it flood everything until nothing remained but exhaustion, deep and undeniable. The kind that pulled at the edges of consciousness, offering something gentler than pain, something closer to release.
And she let herself drift into it, just for a moment. Because she couldn't hold it in anymore. Because, maybe, she didn't have to.
Notes:
Thanks For the Support Guys!!
Chapter 12: Until I’m There
Summary:
After a day caught between silence and longing, Lucy knows she can’t wait any longer. At the hospital, she finds Tim. A few words are enough to break the distance; a few quiet moments to remind him he’s never stopped being there.
Notes:
I’m sorry this took longer than expected — my beta had to step away halfway through, so I had to finish on my own. There might still be a few mistakes, but I did my best!
To be honest, I haven’t had much time to write between my internship and my studies, and my motivation has been a bit low lately. I still hope you’ll enjoy this chapter, and if it’s not for you anymore, I understand. Thank you for reading. 💙
Chapter Text
The smell of coffee hung in the room, light, comforting. Morning light barely made it past the closed blinds, throwing long shadows on the tiles.
Célina moved quietly in the kitchen, working on scrambled eggs—the kind of breakfast she mostly made for other people. Lucy sat hunched on her stool, mug in her hands.
She didn’t drink. She stared at nothing, like she was trying to hold onto something. Anything. Célina kept glancing at her from the corner of her eye, saying nothing.
She knew how to read silences. Especially these ones.
“Want some toast?” she asked softly, without turning around.
Lucy shook her head. No words. Célina lowered the heat, wiped her hands, turned to face her.
“I’ve seen crime scenes with more atmosphere than this kitchen this morning.”
No answer. She came closer, sat across from her, arms folded on the table.
“And you haven’t even touched your coffee. Now I’m seriously starting to worry.”
Lucy finally looked up. Her eyes were red. Tired. But there. Célina tilted her head.
You didn't pick up.”
Lucy took a slow breath.
“I couldn’t.”
“I know.” Her fingers tightened around the mug.
“He tried to call me.” Célina nodded.
“He called me. Last night.”
Lucy barely lifted her eyes.
"What did he say?" "That he was worried. That he didn't understand why you weren't answering." Silence.
Then Lucy let out a breath.
"I still love him."
Célina let the quiet settle for a second.
"I know."
Lucy looked up, surprised. Célina crossed her arms.
"Seriously? A package at ten-thirty? In the middle of post-explosion stress? Come on."
Lucy gave a small, crooked smile.
"Let's just say it wasn't… really about the package."
Célina rolled her eyes.
"You know you suck at pretending?"
Lucy let out a breath, half laugh, half exhaustion.
"We're still… trying. But in secret."
"Oh yeah. Super discreet. Especially when you run off to pick up a 'package' at almost eleven." Lucy shrugged, but her smile widened a little.
"Thanks."
Célina set a hand over hers.
"I'm here, okay? And… if you ever need to pick up another 'urgent package,' tell me. I'll order cookies at the same time."
The phone sat there, on the nightstand. Black screen. Silent. But Lucy knew. She picked it up, hesitated, then pressed the button.
The screen lit up. Two missed calls. Three messages. All from him, sent last night before she’d even made it home. Her throat tightened. She read them one by one.
You're scaring me, Luce. Just tell me you made it home. I get it if you need time. But I'm here.
A shiver ran up her spine. She closed her eyes for a second. Just a second. Then she typed a reply. I'm here."
She hesitated. The screen stayed lit, lighting up her tired face.
Then, almost instinctively, she added:
I saw your messages.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then: Thanks for not letting go.
She stared at the words for a long time. No "I'm sorry." No promise. Just what she could give right now. She hit send."
Lucy stood up, empty cup in hand. Her movements were slow, but steadier than when she'd first woken.
Célina watched her walk to the sink, saying nothing.
"Do you feel like going to work today?" she asked quietly.
Lucy leaned against the counter for a moment, palms flat. She stared at the shadows on the tiles, the weak morning light.
"No."
She looked up.
"But I think I need to."
Célina nodded.
"Don't force yourself."
"I'm not. I'm just… trying to be me again."
Silence settled, more gentle than heavy. Célina left her chair, came closer, and put a light hand on Lucy's shoulder.
"You know you don't have to be yourself right away?"
Lucy closed her eyes.
"Yeah. But if I wait too long, it'll be harder to find my way back."
A sad smile. But determined.
"I need to move. Do something that matters."
Célina looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
"Then we do it together. I'm with you."
Lucy took a deep breath. In that breath—an invisible promise. To stand, even unsteady. To keep going, even trembling.
***
The briefing room was silent. Not the polite silence of tired mornings, not the routine briefings where half the room zones out. No. This one was heavier. Tense. Almost suspended.
Lucy came in last, right after Célina. She hadn't spoken to anyone. She'd slipped quietly to the back of the room, back against the wall, arms crossed, as if standing like that might make her invisible.
No one said anything. But several eyes turned toward her.
No judgment. Just… that silent knowing. That story everyone already knew without having heard it.
Grey walked in. His step was heavier than usual. Less direct. He held a sheet of paper, but barely looked at it.
His eyes swept the room. And when they landed on Lucy, he didn't say a word. But she knew he'd seen her. He took a deep breath.
"I'm going to start with what everyone's waiting to hear."
The room tensed. Even the chatty ones went quiet. Grey went on.
"Sergeant Bradford had surgery last night.
The bullet was removed cleanly. No complications. He's still under observation, but he's doing well."
A collective exhale. Lucy only felt her hand tighten on her sleeve. Grey continued,
"He'll be discharged tomorrow morning. He needs rest. And he's off duty for a few weeks, until his shoulder heals."
Nyla gave a slow nod, arms crossed. Angela, seated at the table, let out a quiet
"Good."
Grey finally set the sheet down.
"I know situations like this remind all of us why we do this job, and why we don't do it halfway." He paused. Then, quieter:
"Thank you to those who were there yesterday. To those who acted fast."
His eyes found Lucy's again. And this time, he added softly:
"And to those who held on."
She lowered her gaze. Not a word. But something in her throat tightened.
Grey went on with the briefing—assignments, reminders, instructions. But she didn't hear any of it. Everything blurred as the tension in her chest grew. She wanted to leave. But not to run. She wanted to see him.
The rest of the day dragged on like a bad waking dream.
Lucy felt like she was floating. Everything seemed unreal. Every movement automatic, every word weighed a ton.
She couldn't remember what she'd answered Grey. Or the patrol with Célina. Or the names of people they'd met. She drove. She spoke when she had to. She smiled, sometimes.
But she wasn't there. She was somewhere else. In a hospital room. Imagining a bandage being changed.
A furrowed brow. A breath too short. Tim. Always him. Célina had let her be. No questions. She drove in silence, glancing over now and then.
And every time, Lucy kept her eyes fixed straight ahead. Like staring at the horizon might keep her from falling apart.
At one point, late afternoon, Célina briefly touched the gear shift, eyes on the road.
"He's okay, you know."
Lucy nodded. But said nothing. She couldn't. That strange, unbearable feeling—living through everything, processing nothing.
And yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the pressure, one thought kept growing. The minutes passed. The need grew bigger.
She had to see him. She didn't want texts. No calls. No screens. She wanted to see him. Feel him breathe. Talk to him. Touch him. Just to be sure.
The sun was setting when they got back to the station. Lucy filled out the patrol report on autopilot. Set the keys on the counter.
Angela gave her a look but said nothing. Even she understood. And when she passed Nyla in the hallway, Nyla just gave her a small, silent wink—barely there.
No words. No need. Everyone knew. And for once, it was almost comforting.
She left the station without a word. Bag on her shoulder. Heart in her throat.
She wasn't hungry. Wasn't cold. Wasn't tired. Just that urgent, burning need to see him.
Célina stepped closer, phone in hand, half amused, half tender.
"I'm calling an Uber."
Lucy turned to her, hesitant.
"You sure?"
"Yes, Luce. Go see him. If you're still asking, I'll drag you to the hospital myself. But honestly, I don't have the energy. So go."
Lucy let out a half-strangled laugh.
"Want me to text when I get there?"
Célina tapped at her screen without looking up.
"No. I want a full debrief tomorrow morning. And a picture of him in hospital pajamas if possible." Lucy smiled. A real one.
The kind she hadn't had in days.
"Thanks."
Célina gave her a small wink.
"Go. Before I change my mind and come with you."
Lucy didn't need to be told twice. She got in her car, key in the ignition. And left. Toward him.
***
She drove without music. Didn't need it. Already enough noise in her head. She knew he was okay. She'd seen him yesterday, talked a little—just enough to take the edge off.
But not enough to quiet what still churned inside. It wasn't fear anymore. It was the ache. The empty space he'd left by not touching her, by not saying what she knew he was thinking.
And now, she didn't want to wait anymore. Not a message. Not a screen."
Just him. So she drove.
Faster than usual. Fingers tight on the wheel. Heart suspended, fixed on that moment she hadn't reached the night before. She wanted to see him. The real him. And this time, she wasn't leaving without touching him.
She stopped at the half-open door. Just for a second. Just long enough to see him. He was there, sitting up in bed, looking grumpy, focused on a small dessert cup he was trying to open one-handed. The other arm still immobilized, strapped to his chest, movements awkward.
The lid wouldn't budge. The plastic creaked. He let out a frustrated breath, eyebrows drawn tight—questioning the universe about the injustice of this pudding. And Lucy, leaning against the doorframe, watched.
A smile found her lips. Quiet. Small. One of those he wouldn't see right away, but that existed only for him. Because even now, even with a stubborn dessert and a wrecked shoulder, he still had this ridiculous ability to melt her heart. She knocked softly.
Two small taps. He looked up. And when their eyes met, all the fatigue, all the frustration… disappeared. Tim's breath caught when he saw her there, in the doorway. She was here.
Real, with that tiny smile he'd recognize anywhere. Lucy stepped in without a word, closing the door softly.
She moved toward him slowly, as if the moment shouldn't be rushed. As if their fragile bubble needed to hang there a few seconds more.
She set her bag down, glanced at the still-sealed dessert, then at him.
"Want help, or are you planning to threaten it into submission?"
Tim raised an eyebrow, pretending offense.
"I was winning."
She came closer, took the cup, twisted the lid off smoothly. The plastic gave with a soft pop. She handed him the dessert with a smile.
"Hero."
He took the spoon, throat tight. He wanted to say everything he hadn't managed to tell her these past two days. Since that damn bullet. Since her tears. Since her silence. But she got there first.
She sat on the bed's edge, slowly, eyes on him. And in a voice soft, fragile but sincere: "I'm sorry." Tim stared, surprised.
"Lucy—"
She shook her head.
"Let me finish."
She took a breath, searching for words.
"I was scared. Not just for you… for me too. I didn't know how to handle it. So I shut down. But it wasn't because I didn't want you. It's because I had nothing left holding me together."
She paused, then added, quieter:
"And I think I got more scared when I realized you were still there. That you hadn't moved."
Silence settled. Tim looked at her, saying nothing. Then he set his spoon down.
Slowly. And took her hand. He held it gently. Just tight enough for her to understand.
"I'm not going anywhere, Lucy."
A pause. Then, murmured:
"Even if you push me away, even if you panic, even if you need time. I'm staying."
She blinked, swallowing the emotion threatening to rise. And this time, she held on tighter.
***
They stayed there awhile, not speaking. Just their hands joined, breathing steady, gazes lighter. Lucy stood without a word, walked around the bed, and settled slowly on the other side, where there was still space. Tim straightened slightly, surprised, but said nothing.
She slipped under the blanket silently, as if it were natural, obvious. As if her absence had never existed.
She rested her head against his left shoulder—the uninjured one. Gently. With that quiet care that said everything. Tim, still at first, felt his heartbeat slow. He slid his left arm around her, drawing her close with infinite care.
Lucy didn't speak. But she sighed. One of those sighs that lightens everything.
And seconds later, her breathing softened.
Even. Peaceful. She'd fallen asleep against him. As if here, and nowhere else, she could finally let go.
Tim closed his eyes too. And for the first time in a long time, he felt something like peace.
TBC
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