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

Part 4

After she graduated, Lucy had tried to maintain some kind of connection with Tim, sending the occasional funny observation about how her new partner was so different from Tim, or sharing one of Jackson's more outrageous TikTok's (never one of her own), or just checking in on Kojo.

And it wasn't that he had just flat out ignored her — he always responded eventually — but it didn't take long for Lucy to realize how painfully one sided their relationship had become. And so she stopped reaching out, and their connection devolved into a mere shadow of what they had once shared.

Shortly after they had called it quits, Rachel had told Lucy how emotionally distant Tim had become once she moved to New York. She'd theorized that he hadn't been doing it intentionally, but that he just couldn't sustain the connection they'd built without them being able to spend time together in person. And it hasn't been until this very moment that Lucy realizes she and Tim have been going through their own version of the very same thing.

"Lucy..." he says, sounding almost helpless, finally turning to look at her.

He sighs, struggling. He's not like Lucy. He doesn't always know how to put what he's feeling into words.

How does he explain to her that it had never been his intention to hurt her, even if that was ultimately the impact? How does he explain that after her graduation he just hadn't known how to be in her life — what he was to her now that they weren't sharing a shop on a daily basis, even while he was painfully aware of the Lucy-sized hole in his life?

At more than 10 years her senior, he was hardly going to kick it with her and Jackson and Nolan when they were off shift. And now that he was supervising another group of patrol officers in his Patrol Sergeant position, they just weren't crossing paths naturally at work as much anymore. And yes, he knows he could have tried harder to keep their friendship intact with the slightly ajar doors Lucy kept opening for him, but he also wanted her to spread her wings, to find her place in the department without his presence hovering over her shoulder.

And, if he was being honest, the undercover thing had come as an unexpected emotional gut punch. He knew he was out of line — that it wasn't his place to get in the way of her chosen career path. And so, after the Solanga mission, it was an easy excuse for him to pull back from her. It had impacted him more that he had been willing to admit even to himself, and something in him had just known that if she went down that path, he'd inevitably end up losing her in some way.

His thoughts are a jumbled mess — a tangle of his grief over Isabel, still tangible but less raw now; how good Lucy looks in that dress and how he suddenly can't unsee his boot in this new, not so friendly light; his acute awareness of the gentle pressure of her fingers around his arm and the way he is instinctually craving more of her touch, more closeness with her as he also tries to process the emotional Pandora's box she has flung open; the innate protectiveness he feels toward the woman sitting next to him that he just hasn't been able to figure out how to turn off since Caleb; the complications of how intertwined their professional and personal lives have become...

It is close to impossible for him to ignore his natural instinct to close off and pull away in situations that are as emotionally charged as this one, but this is Lucy, and he knows how much courage it's taking her to confront him like this. And for her, he's willing to at least try.

So instead of trying to put it all into words, he does the only thing he can to show her how deeply sorry he is for hurting her. He reaches his arm out to wrap around her waist, easily pulling her into him, wrapping her up in his arms and burying his face in her neck — wanting to escape into her for a brief reprieve from the emotions that are flooding him.

Lucy offers no resistance to the embrace, instead allowing herself to be enveloped into him, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his neck as he burrows into her for comfort and her other arm fiercely wrapping around him to return the hug.

She's not sure how long they sit like that, just breathing, before she finally speaks.  "It's okay, Tim," she whispers, and she can feel some of the tension he's holding in his body finally dissipate as he lifts his head from her shoulder to look at her.

Their closeness is somehow more jarring as their eyes find each other's, her thumb gently stroking the hair at the base of his neck, his arms still unwilling to release her.

He leans his forehead against hers, noses touching, lips dangerously close together. One small shift and this will be more than two former partners, two friends, comforting each other through a difficult emotional exchange. Lucy somehow knows that if she leaves this up to Tim, they will stay like this, just like this, until the sun rises. He may have gotten them to the line, but he isn't going to cross it without her explicit permission.

And so she grants it, taking the tiniest, and yet also the biggest, of leaps, tilting her head ever so slightly so that her lips are just barely brushing his, before  pulling back just enough to break contact and wait for his response.

He is frozen, and Lucy knows he is calculating. Calculating the consequences of his next move for her, calculating the consequences for him.

They both know the consequences are going to be far greater for her, but that doesn't mean they are going to be a cakewalk for him either. A T.O. becoming romantically involved with his former rookie is going to raise difficult questions about power, influence, and favoritism that neither of them is going to want to face.

But in this moment —her entire body aching to be even closer to his — she can't bring herself to care. She is tired of living her life in fear of what other people may think of her and is desperate to let go of the weight of that constant worry if even just for a night.