Maybe we figure it out in the morning... || Chenford / The Rookie

Part 3

The burst of cool, fresh air that meets them as they exit the bar is a welcome contrast to the intense body heat that had been building inside of the bar.

As they cross the parking lot, Tim nods his head toward the beachfront taco truck across the street, "You hungry, boot?"

Lucy grins at him, just the idea of tacos making her stomach rumble, "Starved."

As they reach the crosswalk and pause, waiting for the signal to change, Tim wordlessly shrugs off his over shirt, holding it out for her to take.

Lucy looks from Tim to the offered article of clothing and then back to Tim, narrowing her eyes at him, "Something you'd like to say, Bradford?"

Tim stares back, unyielding, with a shrug, "Just don't want you to get cold, boot."

"Mmmhmm."

They stare at each other for a moment longer before Lucy gives in, taking the shirt from Tim and pulling it on over her dress. While she won't admit it to him, she's secretly grateful for it, feeling a bit more conscious now that she is no longer in a bar full of similarly attired women and is instead wandering over to a food truck that has attracted an entirely more casual late night crowd.

She's startled by how quickly his scent overtakes her and barely resists the urge to tuck her face into the collar and breathe him in more deeply, instead turning her eyes up toward him. "I miss this, you know. I miss us... working together, I mean," she quickly amends, shocked at how quickly her confident party girl persona has devolved back into awkwardness.

Tim meets her gaze and smiles just slightly down at her, "I miss you too, Lucy."

Lucy doesn't fail to notice that he calls her by her first name — not 'Chen' or 'boot' — and that he doesn't bother to qualify with the 'working together' bit she'd thrown in. And she somehow knows his word choice is deliberate, a pointed, yet reassuring, response to her awkwardly fumbling over her own words in trying to convey how much she misses having him in her life.

After they place their order, Lucy looks up at Tim with a pleading look, "Can we take these down to the beach? These shoes are killing my feet."

Once they've gotten their tacos, Tim grudgingly agrees to Lucy's suggestion to eat on the beach. But not without first mumbling something about proper footwear for taking down a suspect, and eating tacos on a beach after 10PM making you soft, and also being technically illegal since the beach is closed, but, hey, what's a misdemeanor between friends?

Lucy ignores him, focusing instead on the immediate relief she feels as she ditches her shoes near the sea wall and lets her feet sink into the cool, comforting sand.

They wander part way down the beach toward the water, settling into a spot that's far enough away from the road that they can no longer hear the sounds of traffic and drunken people, but still close enough to the street lights that they can see their tacos.

They are technically off duty now, but the energy between them, the night, still somehow feels surreal — some land in between two strangers in a bar and a former rookie and her T.O.

They have a good time, laughing together as they exchange stories about their craziest patrol encounters since they've stopped riding together.

Tim is gathering up the trash from their tacos and setting it aside, when Lucy speaks again, her voice no longer light with laughter. She's not sure what makes her brave enough to say the words — if it's the cover of darkness, the abandoned beach, the sound of the ocean disappearing the rest of the world, or maybe even just a bit of liquid courage left over from their time in the bar. "It really hurt me, you know..."

Tim freezes, his eyes jerking up to meet hers, caught off guard by the sudden change in her tone, "Lucy...?" he asks gently, unsure of what she is trying to tell him.

"The undercover stuff — Tim, I really wanted and needed your support. I really wanted you to be proud of me and you just — it felt like you didn't think I could handle it, that I wasn't good enough. And then... it was like after I made that choice — after I graduated — it was a pat on the back and you were just kind of done with me." Her voice is thick, the words tumbling out as even she is caught off guard with how many emotions confessing this is bringing to the surface.

You would think that, as the kid of two shrinks, she'd be overwhelmingly in touch with her emotions, and she almost always is, but she's long since realized that Tim Bradford has managed to become a bit of an emotional blind spot for her.

He frowns, sighing. "Lucy, that's not it. You know that isn't it. I know you can handle it. You know I know you can handle it. I just — I just — I can't do this again. I can't stand by and watch another person I care about disappear into that world. I know you think you know what you're getting into, and maybe you do, but Lucy, doing this work is going to change your life, it's going to change you."

The lightness of his expression from their conversation just moments ago has disappeared, and Lucy notices how tired and beaten down he suddenly looks. She's well aware of how triggering this is for him, but she's also unwilling to let it go. Because that would mean letting him go, calling it a night, and falling back into a world where Tim Bradford is nothing more to her than a casual wave in the hallway. And he's not the only one that is hurting.

He continues softly, looking out at the ocean instead of at her, "I don't want to watch you change, not the way UC work changes people, and I just — I can't watch you get hurt in that way."

Lucy pauses, processing, trying to choose her next words carefully, but knowing there isn't going to be a good way to say them. "Tim," she says softly, "I'm not Isabel. I —"

"I know that," he snaps, more forcefully than either of them is expecting, and it leaves them both wondering if he really does — emotionally — in this context.

Lucy swallows before continuing carefully, wishing he would at least look at her and worrying that he's going to shut down on her. "What I mean is that I'm not going to make the same mistakes she did, Tim, and that's because of you. I saw what you went through firsthand; I'm not going into this as some naive little rookie that has no idea what the risks are, and I have you to thank for that."

She studies his profile, as he continues to refuse to look at her, knees bent with his arms resting on them, unmoving. She reaches out to him, in hopes that the physical contact will bring him back to her, letting her hand find a place on his upper arm, allowing her fingers to curl around the curve of his bicep. She can literally feel the tension coursing through his body. He doesn't react, silent as he continues to stare out into the dark abyss that is the ocean.

"So what, then? Is that it? You can't support me in UC work or even be in my life because... you care about me...?" she asks, almost incredulously, surprising even herself with the amount of frustration and anger she is feeling towards him in this moment, willing him to at least try and meet her halfway instead of shutting her out.

Even turned away from her, Lucy can see his expression is pained. "You know I do."

"Do I, though? Really, Tim?" she asks, her voice on the brink of cracking under the weight of emotion. She knows she's pushing him — maybe too hard — but she isn't able to stop herself. She keeps her hand wrapped around his upper arm so that he knows that this is about more than her just being angry at him for not being supportive of her, that she's trying to reach him, trying to connect with him, despite the clear frustration lacing her words.

"It's been six months since I graduated. You were there for practically every minute of every day for over a year and, then, you were just gone." Lucy's voice shakes slightly, "I thought we were friends, Tim. I thought you were..." she trails off, unable to force out the words, 'more than just my T.O.'