Chapter Text
‘Time’ and ‘tardy’ started with the same letter for the same reason.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Lucy's turning rustled the sheets for the twentieth time within the past two minutes. Fortunately, it was louder than the plastic hand within the glass case. Unfortunately, it was not louder than her thoughts.
“Who would call you?”
An uncomfortable shiver ran down Lucy's spine as she turned onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. A couple days before, the department—once again in partnership with the Make-A-Wish foundation—hosted a teen's questionnaire for the officers. Before that awful question was one she could at least answer: “Who would you call in times of crisis?”
She had John, and Jackson, and Dispatch. Maybe even Tim. All reliable, dependable, reputable figures.
But her?
Who would call her?
“Chen.”
Oh, that's right. Her rustling was also not loud enough to not wake the grumpy glorious Tim Bradford.
“I can hear you thinking.”
“Don't listen then.”
“Bit difficult when you're so loud.”
“Oh no, how sad…my condolences.” She pushed herself up on her lone bed, resting her elbows on her pillow. Her waves fell over her shoulder as she turned to look at Tim on the couch.
Who just so happened to be looking at her.
They'd arrived at the motel a couple hours ago. The ‘mandatory’ vacation they and a couple others were on had to take an unplanned detour when an intense downpour reared its ugly head, obstructing views no matter who drove. They'd pulled into the parking lot, debated room arrangements in the lobby for a good 15 minutes, and went their own way. She and Tim had roomed out of convenience of cost- John and Jackson wanted to room together while Angela wanted her own room. They couldn't afford another.
For a dingy motel one health inspection away from being shut down, it sure did cost much. If Lucy focused enough, she could hear John and Jackson laughing at their predicament.
When it'd come time to sleep—they’d done an awkward dance in the mini-kitchen making instant noodles and eggs—it’d been unspokenly agreed that Lucy would get the bed and Tim would get the couch. To save his pride and dignity, Lucy had thought. She was sure he'd complain at least once.
The complaint never came. Not when his feet dangled off the end, not when he had no room to turn or toss, not even when his pillow fell off the edge.
“You gonna keep trying to perform telepathy, or are you going to use your words?” She quickly shut her slightly agape mouth. “No… Words are overrated,” the brunette managed to mumble back. She was too busy squinting at the very, very slight crease in his eyebrows. Huh.
Tim rolled his eyes. He sat up completely, swinging his feet on the ground in front of him before pulling his blanket back over his legs. He crossed his arms, unamused. “So you mean to tell me,” he said, slow and firm, “that the very things that are keeping you—and me—up, are overrated? At 2AM?”
Lucy looked at him like he was drunk.
“I mean- I mean, I suppose so, sir?” She rubbed her eyes with an underline of unexplained frustration. Every time he talked, without fail, she'd feel so sleepy.
Tim tried his best not to stare for too long.
“Right, well. Sorry to wake you…” Lucy mumbled behind her hands. She held them there for a little longer before clumsily settling them into her lap, twiddling her fingers. Go figure. She fell back onto her bed with a ‘pomph’, hair splayed and eyes closed.
Then, faintly, she started laughing.
“Is something funny, Lucy?”
Yes, she thought. I'm in a motel room—with my TO, of all people—and I'm completely losing my mind.
She opened her eyes, briefly glancing at him. “Yes, actually. Did you know you drool when you sleep?”
“I- what?”
Lucy had no regrets watching his astonished face through her peripherals.
She turned to him as he rolled his eyes, skimming the corners of his mouth with his fingertips. He sighed heavily.
“Do I need to file a report for unauthorized surveillance of an officer?” Tim asked, voice flat.
“That's a lot of fancy words for ‘situational awareness’.” She paused, mock thinking. “Why would you want to torture yourself with paperwork?” Lucy poked, propping her head with a hand.
Tim pursed his lips, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees while ripping his gaze from her again. It was tiresome, consciously catching and fixing himself in the act, but it was easier to correct than dwell on the hidden complexity.
“What I want is to know why even though it's been an hour and thirty since we bid each other goodnight, you still aren't asleep, Miss ‘I-fell-asleep-on-the-job-again-because-I’m-addicted-to-it-and-we-had-a-five-minute-break.”
Lucy feigned injury. “Ouch. You really think I would fall asleep on the job?”
“You did, this week. During briefing. Does that ring a bell?”
She huffed. “It was strategic. I was resting my eyes.” A beat. “Practicing being in focus even if I am deprived of sight.”
Tim quirked an eyebrow.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “Once.”
“Twice.”
“Once and a half.”
“How would you make ‘a half' work here?”
The downpour, seemingly woken from its slumber, started up once again. Raindrops tapped the small room window incessantly.
Tim raised his arms in a stretch before moving to a chair near the bed. Lucy bit back a laugh at the immediate relief on his face when he wasn't sitting on a rock.
‘Boing!’
The pair snapped their heads toward the noise. Tim's eyes widened while Lucy burst into laughter. There, right where his head had been, the couch spring had popped out. She couldn't fathom how hilarious that was.
Tim couldn't fathom how every time, without fail, her laughter would ease any tension around them.
“That,” Lucy started, wiping a tear from her eye “was perfect.” She looked back at Tim, who now seemed interested in sleeping on the chair. “At least you'll be more comfortable now.”
Had the bed always felt this empty?
“At least I'll be asleep.” Tim almost seemed to sharpen his voice with the last word. Lucy winced.
“Well, you don't know how this bed is…”
“I sat on it earlier. It is much more comfier than our shop seats, isn't it?”
The brunette stammered a bit. “Since when did you like to ask so many questions?”
“Since when did you like to avoid them?”
Lucy hesitated.
“It's that question from the Make-A-Wish kid, isn't it,” Tim murmured, though the question came out more like a statement.
Because he knew the answer was yes. When they were up on the panel, he'd seen how she'd stalled. In the following days, out on patrol, he could see how she'd just stopped…talking. Even on the department’s ‘mandated mental health trip’, he could see it in how present yet withdrawn she'd been from everyone.
Tim nodded at her silence.
“Kids ask strange things. Don't get caught up in it.”
“But everyone had someone,” she whispered. “Even you.” Her hands caught the sheets, crumpling them in her fists. “No one really needs me. They can search for me in a room, they can invite me to go out, but when things really matter-” Her breath caught in her throat. “I'm not-” She tried again, in an attempt to preserve what little dignity she had left, but Tim didn't need to hear it to know.
“You aren't crying, I know.”
She looked up at him.
“Start taking things at face value. Not everything is some big, philosophical question.” He paused. “And stop ranking yourself.”
“But-”
“Enough, Chen.”
He'd said it with such bite she stiffened. She hadn't expected a whole comforting spiel—she gave up on that day one under his training—but it still hurt to feel so…shut down?
Her grip loosened on the sheets. She watched as he grabbed his pillow and blanket, throwing them on his chair, before walking towards the dim lamp near her bedside. He shoved his hands in his pockets, turning to her.
“Lay down.”
“What- no? You don't get to just do this?” Words tumbled out, half confusion, half hurt. But what she saw in his eyes…
Her back hit the bed lighter than last time.
Tim turned back to the lamp, clicking it off. Lucy had intentionally left it on, something to partake as company for her and her thoughts, so now that it was off…
Maybe she'd get an ulcer with how empty she felt.
“Get some sleep.” He'd murmured before walking away.
Unbeknownst to him, she was already asleep.