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The wine was untouched. It sat on the coffee table beside Lucy, half a glass of red catching the glow of the muted TV screen. Top Chef played quietly in the background, the chefs shouting about seared scallops and broken beurre blanc, but none of it really registered as the images appeared on the screen.
She was curled up on the couch, her oversized sweater swallowing her frame. Joggers tugged over her legs as she was lost in her thoughts. The case with Celina still played on a loop in her mind, and Lucy was still in the midst of processing everything.
She couldn't rid herself of the desperate, heartbreaking spiral of a woman so far lost in grief from not being able to conceive her own child, that she kidnapped a woman, forced her to give birth, and claimed that child as her own. It was a wicked way of trying to make sense of a loss she felt, of trying to fill a void and longing that had manifested in a mental crisis.
Lucy blinked slowly, staring at the television, but her mind elsewhere. Greta's eyes and the baby’s piercing cries still haunted her. The way she'd cradled that infant and had been afraid that she was the only one who could keep it safe. What floored Lucy most was her voice; how gentle it had been even as her actions screamed danger. It was clear that Greta had lost all trust in humanity, and Lucy couldn't even fault her with it.
The system was rigged when it came to people with mental health issues. Friends, family, professionals turned a blind eye when all the signals were there, chose to ignore them to remain in denial, to be oblivious to the pain, only to excuse it without knowing about it when that crisis manifested into something shocking.
She should have had someone who recognized the need for help, and someone who should have tried to offer their assistance before she became a danger that nearly cost Greta her life.
Looking back, Lucy had done everything right and there was no point in analyzing it further. She followed protocol to a tea: She had given warnings. She begged Greta to do the right thing, but she was lost deep in her delusion that her twisted way of thinking made her raise the knife.
That’s when Lucy took the shot straight into her shoulder. Greta recoiled, and Lucy stumbled forward, catching the baby before the woman or the infant hit the ground with a dull thud. The baby's cry had pierced the silence that followed, and Lucy had holstered her weapon with hands that wouldn't stop shaking, holding the small bundle to her chest as she checked for Greta's pulse.
The baby was safe.
And Greta was alive.
The rational part of Lucy, the one trained for this, the one that could detach just enough to get the job done, kept repeating that she had done what she had to do. As a cop it was her duty to de-escalate the situation and sadly this time, a shooting was necessary in order to save an innocent life.
The more she thought about it, the more she was thinking about her Rookie year. Situations like this is what he drilled into her in efforts to make her understand the world could be a scary place. He knew how kind she was and how good she was. It was the foundation of what made her a good cop.
But regardless of how good she was, and how much good she would always see in others, there were times when the ugliness of life prevailed. Whether she liked it or not, there were times she’d have to decide who to save and who to risk losing.
Lucy sighed and bit her lower lip, because the other part of her, the compassionate one, was holding on to the thought that Greta hadn't been a monster. She was a victim as well, a broken woman who had no one left.
The silver lining was that she survived the surgery. She’ll recover and eventually she will be sentenced and serve her time. Lucy held out hope that she would get the help she needed to eventually live a life without the demons threatening her.
Lucy made a point of advocating for that in her report, underlining how much mental health impacted the decisions Greta made. While writing it, Lucy realized that cases like this were never easy and they’d weigh down on her, but they were exactly the reason why Lucy had become a cop. She loved the job in its entirety, but looking back she could admit now that she'd entered the force with rose-colored glasses.
Growing up, Lucy had been raised in a sheltered home by loving parents who prioritized her emotional growth and mental health, mainly because they were therapists themselves. Ironically, that same upbringing and their careful shaping of her into a strong, independent woman ultimately drove a wedge between them, causing Lucy to distance herself from them.
Her parents had always imagined a different future for her. There was always talk of law school, med school, something safe and prestigious, but Lucy had chosen this path instead—not out of rebellion, but out of purpose. She wanted to help people and do good. And while her rookie year had been hard, Tim unknowingly had trained her exactly the way she needed to be trained for that mission.
Because to recognize the good, you have to be able to face the bad. And being a cop meant being confronted with all of it, even when she had to endure it herself. Lucy had lived through her own trauma of being kidnapped and buried alive, but she came out stronger and more resilient.
But the experience had flipped a switch in her, dulling some of the innocent optimism she once carried and replacing it with a sharper understanding of the world's harsher edges, which in hindsight was not a bad thing.
It was the reason why she stayed in the job and why she wanted to rise through the ranks. She wanted to prove to her parents that she could thrive without following their roadmap, while simultaneously creating change within the LAPD and the world. She wanted to be part of the solution, to take everything she'd learned and endured and turn it into something better.
Lucy smiled at her thought and reached for her wine glass, fingers wrapping around the stem as she took a slow sip, letting the bitter red coat her tongue. The background noise of Top Chef was still there, but it was too low to follow. She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, but she still heard the soft creak of a door opening.
Celina stepped into the living room, already dressed in an LAPD hoodie and black athletic leggings, duffel slung over one shoulder and a water bottle in her hand. She stopped when she saw Lucy still curled on the couch.
"You sure you don't want to come to the game?" she asked, a note of concern slipping into her voice. "Everyone’s really fired up this year. I think Nolan really wants to win to hold it over Bailey's head."
Lucy gave a soft smile, her eyes flicking toward her roommate. "I'm good. I just need some space to decompress. The case earlier… it's still hanging on a little, so I can’t focus on the game anyway."
"Yeah. It was rough," Celina agreed, “I wish it had gone differently."
"Me too," Lucy sighed and took another sip. "I know I did the right thing. But knowing and feeling are two different matters."
Celina watched her for a second longer, then walked a few steps closer, her voice quiet. "You sure you want to be alone? I mean, chances are Nolan is gonna pull a hamstring."
"As much as I would like to see that," Lucy chuckles but shakes her head. "I think I need it, just for a bit. Solitude's kind of my reset button."
"Yeah, see, I'm the opposite," she paused and tilted her head. "My reset button is a group huddle and yelling at the fire department over bad passes."
"That's why you're going, and I'm not." Lucy mused.
"Fair enough," Celina said, hoisting the duffel a little higher on her shoulder. "But if you change your mind, we'll be at the Rec field. Come for the company, stay for the snacks and shenanigans.” She paused and looked one last time at Lucy. “And text me if you need anything, okay?"
"I will. Good luck, and please make sure to kick some firefighter ass," Lucy winked.
"You know it," Celina said and clicked her tongue. With a final grin, she headed for the door, yelling loudly, "Go LAPD!" before it clicked shut behind her.
Lucy laughed at that and turned her eyes back on the TV, sliding down lower on the couch. She crossed her legs, finished her wine, and hummed to herself in contentment. She contemplated for a moment what to do, the TV not really catching her attention, so she decided on a long bath with another glass of wine and a good podcast would do her good before doing some meditation afterward.
-
By the time the game was wrapped up, the sun had started its slow descent, casting golden streaks across the field. LAFD had put up a good fight, but the LAPD team walked off the field victoriously, thanks to Miles and the overall great teamwork.
Everyone gathered around the fold out tables, splitting off into groups while someone blasted music from a Bluetooth speaker. People chatted and refreshed themselves, including Nolan who took a long pull from a water bottle and glanced around at the small crowd.
"Hey, has anyone seen Lucy?" he asked. "Tim said she wasn't coming, but… is she okay?"
Tim, standing off to the side, didn't miss a beat. "She's fine. Just needed some time to herself. The case still has her a little wound up."
"Yeah, she said that to me as well," Celina said, mid-sip of her Gatorade, and gave a slight shrug. "But honestly… I don't know if she's really okay."
"Lucy's always been the type to process things on her own. Too many people around her when she's overwhelmed? That's not comforting. That's claustrophobic," Tim said as his jaw ticked a little, arms crossing.
"Huh. I don't get that. When I'm down, being around people is the only thing that helps," Miles said, and the others nodded.
"Same," Nolan agreed as Bailey walked over to them, wrapping an arm around her husband. "Sometimes just being with your squad helps take the edge off."
"That's great—for you," Tim said.
"I mean, she wasn't always like that. I remember a time when Lucy used to thrive around people. She should talk to someone and maybe let people in. Bottling stuff up doesn't help," Bailey stated, and there was a beat of silence before Tim turned to her.
"With all due respect, Bailey… you don't know Lucy like I do." His words weren't harsh. If anything, his tone was gentle and protective, but the message was clear. "She's not bottling anything up. She's giving herself space to process. That is letting it out in her own way. You all might need noise and distraction. Lucy needs quiet. That's not a flaw. It's just who she is."
He handed off a half-empty water bottle to a passing officer and walked away from the group without waiting for a response, heading toward the parking lot, his shoulders a little tighter than before. Angela, who'd been talking to Wesley nearby, arched a brow and looked at the group.
"Okay, who pissed on his cornflakes?" She asked. Celina raised her hand sheepishly.
"We might've been talking about Lucy," she admitted.
"Of course," Angela rolled her eyes and grabbed a granola bar from the snack table.
"What? We were just saying we weren't sure if she was okay." Bailey argued, and Angela shrugged.
"Yeah, well, maybe don't assume you know better," Angela said flatly, unwrapping the bar with a crinkle. "Lucy's one of the smartest, most self-aware people I know. If she says she needs space, she does what she needs. You don't get to project your coping mechanisms onto her just because it makes you uncomfortable."
"Noted." Nolan raised his hands in defense, but Celina looked a little guilty. "I didn't mean to…"
"Just let her be." Angela waved her off as she walked after Tim. "When Lucy's ready, she'll talk. Or she won't. But trust that she knows how to handle herself. She's been through worse than a bad case."
With that Angela turned away from the group to make her way over to Tim, who had just shut the back door of his car when he heard her footsteps behind him.
"Tim," Angela called out, her voice even but edged with intent. "Wait up."
He sighed quietly and paused, resting his forearms on the edge of the flatbed. "What's up?"
"You good?" Angela stopped a few feet away, arms crossed loosely over her chest.
"I'm fine," he said a little too quickly. She gave him a look, and Tim pushed out of the car, "Just… annoyed."
"Yeah, I picked up on that." She gave him a look. "You want to tell me why?"
He exhaled through his nose, grabbing his jacket but not putting it on. "I’m just tired of people speculating about Lucy. Like she's some fragile thing, who doesn't know how to handle herself. She's stronger than all of us combined, and half the time, people still talk about her like she's made of glass."
"I think they're just worried about her," Angela leaned against the side of his car, and Tim didn't reply right away, his jaw working for a second. Angela tilted her head, reading him like only she could.
"So… you really think she's okay?" She asked and Tim finally looked over at her, a pointed brow raised, but Angela didn’t back down. "Do you?"
Tim still didn't reply, looking like he was over this conversation, but Angela pursed her lips and shook her head. "I'm not trying to stir the pot. I'm just asking. Things have been… different since the breakup. And maybe there's stuff you're not saying. Or she's not saying. Or both of you are trying too hard to act like everything's cool."
"I get it. You're being you," he sighed, and Angela laughed.
"Damn right," she said, and Tim ran a hand over the back of his neck.
"Honestly? I'd have been more concerned if Lucy had shown up today. This is how she decompresses. And we've talked. I trust her," he simply stated, and Angela raised her brow at him, giving him that look. The look, which meant she wasn’t satisfied with his explanation, so Tim groaned and rolled his eyes.
"We talk during and after work, Ange. Not every day, maybe not in front of everyone. But despite everything that happened… we're in a good place. I can promise you that."
"Okay. I'll back off," she mused, pushing off the car. "For now."
"You don't need to worry about me and Lucy. We're not broken, just temporarily….apart."
"Didn't think you were broken, but I still wanted to hear you say it," she grinned, winking at him. "I know you two didn't come back down from the room at the Gala."
"Ange," he warned her, and she laughed, nudging him. "Give her time, and as I said earlier, when you get her back, thank the higher powers and make sure to keep her alright? Otherwise, I might need to kick your butt after all."
"Noted. Now, can I go? My dog needs to be walked," he sighed, and Angela snorted.
"You sure you weren't going to call Lucy?" She teased, and Tim rolled his eyes.
"Bye, see you tomorrow," Tim said, waving at Angela as she walked off. He climbed into his car, shutting the door with a solid thunk, and started it, pulling out of the parking space before tapping his phone.
It rang once. Twice.
"Hey," came Lucy's soft and relaxed voice. She was curled in bed, a book open in her lap, her hair still damp from the bath. The lights were dim, a candle flickering on the nightstand, and she didn't even check, knowing who was calling immediately.
"Hey," Tim said, a small smile in his voice. "We won."
"Yeah? Congrats." Lucy smiled, tucking a leg under her.
"Thanks," he said. "Mostly because Miles agreed to be on the team, but I can take credit as the Team Captain."
She let out a quiet laugh and put a hand on her stomach. "So you're saying it wasn't your natural athleticism that sealed the deal? Only your leadership?"
"I mean, I did complete several passes," he said dryly, and Lucy snorted on the other end.
"Incredible. True MVP behavior," she teased, and Tim huffed in mock offense.
"So, what about you? Still camped out on the couch?" He asked as he drove, leaning back in his seat, his eyes flicking to his phone for a split second.
"Moved to my bed. I had two glasses of wine, took a long bath, and did some meditation to clear my head," she said, shifting on her bed, her book forgotten.
"That's good." He nodded, even though she couldn't see it.
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" she asked, changing the topic and Tim drummed his fingers against the steering wheel.
"A long walk with Kojo. Then I'm ordering the greasiest burger I can find, taking a hot shower, and sleeping," he chuckled, and Lucy giggled as well.
"Living the dream," she grinned and slipped further into the bed, throwing the sheets over her to get more comfortable.
"Always," he said with a soft huff of a laugh. "But tell me, how are you feeling, Luce?"
She hesitated for a moment at the question, not because she didn't want to answer, but because she wanted to find the right words. "Better than earlier. I really needed the space and time to reflect."
"But?" Tim prompted gently.
"But…" she exhaled, "I still feel bad about Greta. I know she was a danger to the baby. I know I didn't have a choice. But it doesn't sit easy. She was so far gone and lost in her own pain."
"You did what you had to do. You saved a baby's life, Lucy." He reassured her.
"I know," she said quietly. "But it's hard not to think about how broken she must've been to get to that point. She wasn't evil. Just… sick. Hurting."
"I know that feeling very well," he said lowly, and Lucy hummed her agreement. "But that's why you're such an amazing cop. You see the pain when most would only see the danger."
She blinked, her throat tightening a little at his words. "I keep thinking… what if someone had been there to help her?"
"It was late, but don't dismiss that you did," Tim said, his voice low and certain. "You saw her. You tried to reach her. And when she wouldn't stop, you made the choice no one else could've made. You did everything right."
Lucy swallowed, pressing her fingers lightly against the rim of her book, staying quiet for a moment.
"If it helps… I don't think Greta was alone in the end. You were there, and I know you'll stick around to help her," he said. "Many see empathy as a weakness, but it's one of your strengths."
At that, Lucy closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then spoke. "Thank you. And thanks for calling."
"No need to thank me, I called for selfish reasons. I wanted to brag," he lightens the mood, and Lucy actually bursts out laughing.
"Well, brag away," she snorts, and Tim shakes his head.
"Too late, I'm home, and Kojo is waiting. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" After pulling into his drive, he shuts off the car and lingers for a moment.
"See you tomorrow."
"Good night," he said. "Oh, and Lucy? You know I'm a text or call away if you need me."
"I know," she replied, clutching her phone. "But go before Kojo has an accident, and you have to scrub the floor all night."
"Bye," he laughs and hangs up, looking at his phone with a smile.
-
"Okay, everyone got their assignments. Be safe out there," Grey said as he finished roll call, looking over to Lucy and Celina.
"Officer Chen. Officer Juarez," Grey called, "In my office."
Lucy and Celina exchanged a glance, unspoken tension lingering between them from the day before, but the two got up. Tim told Lucy in passing he was going to set up shop and wait for her, and she nodded and followed Celina and Grey into the office.
Once they were inside, Grey said, "Close the door. "
Lucy gently pushed it shut, the soft click sealing them from the outside noise. Both officers stood across from Grey's desk. He didn't immediately speak and just studied them for a moment.
"I wanted to check in," he said, voice a notch softer than usual. "How are you two doing?."
"I'm good, Sir," Lucy said quietly, though there was steel beneath the softness. Beside her, Celina shifted her weight from one foot to another, arms crossed tightly like a shield.
"Still a bit raw, sir," she admitted. Grey gave a small nod, acknowledging the honesty with a flicker of approval.
"I thought you should hear this from me before the paperwork starts moving," he paused, then continued, "Greta's lawyer has decided to pursue an insanity defense."
Lucy blinked, the words registering as both expected and oddly relieving. Her chest loosened slightly, a small breath escaping before she spoke. "That's good," she said, her voice threaded with quiet certainty. "It means she might finally get the help she needs."
Celina didn't echo the sentiment—she didn't say anything at all. But Lucy could feel the shift, the way Celina's posture stiffened, her arms crossed a little tighter, and her jaw clenched slightly more. She didn't have to speak for Lucy to know she disagreed.
"Got anything to add, Juarez?" He raised his eyebrow, and Celina shook her head.
"No, sir," she answered. Grey glanced at her but didn't press, so she turned back to Lucy.
"Officer Chen, your report, including the psychological assessment you provided, helped shape how the DA approaches the case. They're not dismissing it, so it’ll be helpful for Greta."
Lucy nodded, surprised by how much that validation settled something inside her. She hadn't written the report seeking praise. She had written it because it was the truth. But hearing it mattered made the burden of the shot she took feel slightly lighter.
Celina, meanwhile, remained silent, her silence louder than any protest might've been. Grey looked between them once more. His tone was professional but definitive. "That’s all. Dismissed."
Celina and Lucy nodded and made their way out of his office. Lucy tried to beeline to the garage, but Celina grabbed her arm and stopped her. One foot tapped the ground, and her eyes were wide, jaw clenched.
"I don't get you," she said, voice low but pointed. Lucy turned toward her slowly. "What?"
"You're happy she's pleading insanity?"
"I'm not happy, Celina. I'm relieved," Lucy said, keeping her voice calm. "She's not well. And if she gets help, maybe she won't be a danger to anyone else or herself."
"She kidnapped Aria, locked her up in a basement, and made her give birth," Celina snapped, her voice harder now. "She traumatized an entire family. And you're defending her like she's the real victim."
Lucy's eyes darkened slightly, but her tone didn't waver. "I'm not saying what she did was right. I'm saying that sometimes punishment doesn't always look like prison. Being trapped in your own mind, living with that kind of pain… that is punishment. And we don't fix broken people by throwing them away."
Celina opened her mouth to reply but stopped as Tim approached, coffee in hand, catching just the tail end of the conversation. His eyes flicked between them, and he raised an eyebrow before he spoke.
"Everything okay?" he asked casually, though the edge of concern was there. Celina looked between Lucy and Tim, then shook her head.
"No," she said bluntly. "Lucy is defending a criminal and completely dismissing the trauma the victim went through."
"I'm not dismissing it," Lucy said, defending herself. "Aria and her family will get the support they need because they're the victim of a crime," her voice softened a little as she paused, but her eyes remained steady. "But Greta… she shouldn't be thrown in a cell and left to rot for having an untreated mental illness."
Celina opened her mouth to object, but Lucy held up her hand to stop her. "She needs treatment. Supervision. Therapy. She's a victim, too, even if that's hard to accept. She's trapped inside a mind that lied to her and twisted her world into something unrecognizable. And once she’s coherent enough to realize it, she’ll have to live with the guilt of what she did for the rest of her life, and that will be her true punishment."
The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. They struck something deep in Tim, and he clutched his coffee cup. He knew exactly what Lucy was talking about because he was also living with guilt that would stick with him forever.
"That doesn't erase what happened to Aria," Celina shook her head, her voice rising. "Or the burden she’ll carry."
"I'm not saying it does," Lucy said. “And I get it, Celina. I do. This case—it's personal for you. Your sister... what you lost..." she trailed off. Celina's face twitched, and she looked away for a second, tears brimming in her eyes.
"You see Aria and her sister, and you think about what you'll never have," Lucy continued gently. "And that empathy? It's part of what makes you a good cop. But it can't cloud your judgment. You know that. You have to separate what's personal from what's procedural. If we let our trauma dictate how we serve justice, we stop being fair."
Celina's eyes were glassy now, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest like she was holding herself together. "I know," she whispered, but there was still defiance there, the war between emotion and reason waging across her features. That's when Tim finally stepped in, his voice lower than usual.
"If I hadn't gotten help," he said, cutting through the tension, "after letting my past catch up with me and breaking up with Lucy….," he paused momentarily, trying to find the right words. "If I hadn't gone to therapy and if I hadn't started talking instead of bottling it all up... I don't know what I would have done. I know I would have done something incredibly stupid. Maybe not like Greta, but something destructive to myself."
"Tim," Lucy said, raising her hand and touching his arm. He shook his head, signaling that it was okay.
"I let my irrational thoughts dictate my actions and I ended up hurting the one person who meant the most to me. I'll have that guilt forever," he whispered. "I was in a dark place, and I know if I had spiraled further, I wouldn’t be standing here. I was fortunate enough to have someone reach out, but Greta didn't, and she deserves a second chance."
The admission hung in the air like a thunderclap, and Celina's mouth parted slightly. She looked at Lucy, then back at Tim, her brows drawn. She wasn't angry anymore. Just shaken.
"I guess," she said slowly, voice smaller than before, "maybe I didn't want to admit how close to home this really hit."
Lucy nodded at her and stepped closer, putting her hands on her arms to rub them gently, "we get it, but I hope you can see that this is the right thing to do."
"Yeah," Celina whispered, finally raising a hand to wipe her tears away. "I'm sorry."
"No need to be sorry, I get it, Tim gets it, ever cop in this room gets it," Lucy murmured, wrapping her arms around the younger woman. "And if you want to talk, we're here to listen, okay?"
"Thanks," she murmured into Lucy's shoulder, giving her a clap on the back before pulling away. "Okay, time to set up shop."
"Be safe out there, Juarez," Tim nodded, and Celina gave him a small smile before she walked away.
"You didn't have to," Lucy starts, but Tim cuts her off.
"I know, but I wanted to. Now let's get going," he smiled and touched her back, leading Lucy towards the garage. She walked, her face still a little glum. The two went to their shop, but Nolan and Nyla were there.
"Hey, Lucy," Nolan greeted her. Lucy looked up, and his face fell a little. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah?" Lucy replied and moved to the shop.
"You don't look okay. Are you sure?" He asked again, and Lucy sighed.
"I'm fine. It's just been a long morning already," she said, and John pursed his lips. "Hey, if you want to discuss the case and what happened, you know I'm here."
Lucy should feel gratitude, but the only feeling simmering is annoyance, and she sighs, but before she can answer, Nyla chimes in. "Nolan, let's go before I grow roots here."
"Lucy," he says as he moves away.
"I'm fine, John."
With that, she opened the door to the shop and got inside, Tim following her and starting the car. He glanced at Lucy from the corner of his eye as he drove, letting the silence stretch just enough to feel intentional, not awkward.
After a few blocks, he finally spoke, "I'm not gonna ask how you're doing."
Lucy turned to look at him, a flicker of amusement behind her eyes despite the heaviness in her chest. "You kind of just did."
"Fair. What I mean is," he huffed a small laugh, eyes still on the road. "I'm not gonna push. But I can tell something's bugging you."
Lucy let out a breath through her nose and slumped a little against the seat. "I'm just... tired of people asking if I'm okay like I'm some porcelain doll about to shatter," she said, a little annoyed. “I got a flood of texts last night from everyone, even Aaron. And it's nice, that people care, but none of them believed me when I said I was fine.”
Tim didn't answer immediately, knowing she wasn't done, so he let her keep going, sensing she needed to get it out.
"I've never given them a reason to think I can't handle myself or this job," Lucy said, sharper now. "I've been through worse. I've survived worse. And yet, they still act like I need to be wrapped in bubble wrap after every hard call."
"You're right," he said after a beat. "You haven't given anyone a reason to doubt you. But... that might be part of the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"You're strong," Tim said simply. "Too strong, sometimes. You hold everything in so well you make it look easy. Like you're bulletproof. So, when something like this case hits you hard, people panic. They don't know how to deal with you not being okay, so they overcompensate. And when you are okay, they still assume you're lying about it because... they don't know how to read you."
"I'm not saying it's okay," he quickly added. "But that's what I think is going on. People don't trust you because they don't know how to trust someone who's been through hell and keeps going because they work through their trauma."
Lucy sat with that for a moment, arms crossed as she stared out the window. "So basically, I'm being punished for being resilient."
"I wouldn’t say punished," he chuckled sympathetically. “But yeah pretty much.”
"Well, that's messed up," she groaned, and Tim glanced over at her for a moment.
"It is, but... you don't owe anyone anything, Luce. You don't have to perform grief or stress just to make them comfortable. You say you're okay. That should be enough," he reassured her, and Lucy looked over at him, lips twitching faintly.
"You believe me?"
"Of course," he replied. "But that's because I know you."
"I can't argue with that," she smiles, and Tim nods. The radio crackled to life, breaking the calm inside the shop.
"7-Adam-19, 459 just occurred. The suspect is possibly still on the scene. 1023 Loma Vista Drive, single-family residence. RP states that the back door was forced open. Code two response."
Lucy reached for the radio and flicked on the siren before speaking, "7-Adam-19, copy that. Show us en route."
-
After shift, Tim and Lucy walked side by side, quietly making their way to the lot exit, exhaustion clinging to their steps after a long, draining day. The familiar smell of grilled meat and fried food hit them as they rounded the corner. John spotted them before the two could make their way to their cars.
"Tim! Lucy!" Nolan called, waving them over.
Lucy instinctively slowed her step, giving Tim a subtle look. Then, she leaned closer to him and whispered, "I'm really not in the mood for this."
He nodded, already preparing to make up an excuse for both of them because he was tired and wanted to go home, but Angela yelled at them, "Oh my God, stop flirting and come have a beer."
"Flirting?" He raised an eyebrow loudly, and Angela snorted while Lucy tugged at his arms.
"Shh," Lucy muttered and sighed. "Let's just say hi."
Reluctantly, they walked over and were quickly pulled into the loose circle of lawn chairs and makeshift seating. Before they could even sit down, the inevitable happened.
"Hey, Lucy," Bailey asked gently, "how are you doing?"
"I'm fine. Just glad the day's over." Lucy plastered on a small smile and accepted the bottle of beer from Smitty, uncapping it and taking a long sip.
"That case with that baby… must've been brutal," Wesley said. "I can't stop thinking about it. I don't know how you handled it."
Lucy's jaw clenched, but she stayed composed as everyone looked at her, "It was tough, yeah. But that's the job. You process it, and you move forward."
"And it's good you're finally opening up," Nolan added, "It's important to seek someone out when things get heavy."
Lucy looked at Tim, and he gave a little shrug and nod, indicating that it was up to her however she wanted to respond. That was the moment Lucy realized she had to say something, so she straightened herself and put down her beer, looking through the face, staring at her.
"Guys, I really like you all and appreciate your concern," she sighed, "but you need to stop."
The group went still. Even Smitty put down his hot dog that he was about to devour, plopping down on a chair before Lucy went on.
"I don't need a dozen people checking in on me every five minutes," she continued, her voice sharp but steady. "I've handled myself just fine for years. I talk when I need to talk. I process things in my own way. And just because I don't do it how you would doesn't mean I'm falling apart."
"Hey, we didn't mean—" Celina started.
"I know," Lucy interrupted, taking a breath. "I know everyone means well. But I'm tired. I'm tired of having to prove that I'm okay. I don't owe anyone a performance."
"You just haven’t seemed happy and maybe a little worn down," Nolan noted.
"That might be, but after a case like this, you’re bound not to be happy and sunny all the time," Lucy said.
"But that's what we mean. It has been happening for longer than that," Celina chimed in.
"Yeah, because have you looked at the past year alone? I almost burned in a wildfire, had to wash out my first rookie, and was part of a massive corruption scandal," Lucy trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Anyone would tamper down their optimism."
"But," Nolan tried to speak, but Lucy cut him off.
"I’m looking to become a Sergeant soon guys," she explained. "Me being a bit more serious doesn't mean I'm completely different. I'm Lucy, happy and fun, but a bit more rational and serious when needed, and I'm quite frankly tired of putting on a constant happy face."
"We don't expect that," Wesley said.
"I know you all mean well, but when I say I'm fine, I mean I'm fine," Lucy argued, talking over Wesley. "I just wish you respected that."
"You said you were fine after Tim broke up with you, but clearly you weren't," Nolan interjected. The words dropped like a bomb, and the entire group froze. Even the hum of conversation from nearby seemed to hush under the weight of Nolan's comment.
Lucy blinked, then narrowed her eyes. The heat of fresh irritation prickled under her skin. "Wow. Okay."
Nolan's expression faltered, and Nyla punched Nolan in the arm, giving him a stink eye for not keeping his mouth shut.
"You know what?" she said, voice cold and precise. "My breakup with Tim? It is none of your business. And maybe it wouldn't have been so hard if half the precinct hadn't placed bets on it."
All heads turned slowly to Smitty. He raised both hands defensively, backing away inch by inch. "I didn't start the pool. I just… facilitated it. There's a difference."
"Seriously?" Lucy said, glaring at him before returning her focus to the group. "Of course, I wasn't okay. I love Tim, but whatever happened between us is between us."
"We just wanted to make sure," Nolan said, and Lucy shook her head.
"None. Of. Your. Business,” she repeated and sighed. “I was fine with not talking to anyone about it because it only concerned Tim and me. It was for us to figure stuff out and not for you guys to gather information and pick sides."
"Lucy," Celina tried, but Lucy cut her off.
"That's it. That's all anyone needs to know, and I do not want to talk anymore about it," she looked over to Tim who nodded. “I’m setting a clear boundary here, okay?”
The silence was sharp again until Bailey, eyes flicking between them, asked carefully, "So… are you two back together?"
Tim finally spoke up before Lucy could open her mouth, "Are you deaf?"
Bailey blinked, caught off guard by his sudden interjection. "Whether we're together or not is none of your concern," Tim continued, voice steady. "You don't need to speculate, you don't need to prod, and you definitely don't need to gossip. So, let's keep noses out of our business, yeah?"
Lucy didn't say anything at first, but the look she gave Tim was grateful, quiet, and full of unspoken appreciation. That's when Angela exhaled hard and stood up, clapping her hands. "Alright, everyone's officially been told off. Can we eat now?"
The silence that followed was thick and awkward. Even the nearby food truck seemed quieter. Lucy looked around, and she let out a frustrated huff. "Sorry. I didn't mean to blow up. I just... needed to say it."
"I respect it," Smitty said, raising his beer like a toast. "Want a hot dog?"
That drew a few quiet chuckles, and slowly, the tension began to dissolve. Tim leaned in towards Lucy. "You wanna stay or...?"
She gave him a small, exhausted smile. "Let's grab tacos to go."
He nodded, and the two quietly peeled off, leaving the group to chatter behind them as they walked toward the truck, leaving the group behind them to have a quiet meal by themselves before heading home.
FIN