Beneath Your Beautiful (A Chenford | The Rookie Fanfic)

Part Eighty: You're Important to Me

Week 6, Day 4: Wednesday

"Lucy?" Tim calls out as soon as he gets the door to the apartment open.

No response. Not even the sound of Kojo's paws clattering across the floor to greet him.

"Lucy?" he tries again, more urgency creeping into his voice as he heads toward her bedroom.

Relief floods him when he spots her with Kojo out on the balcony.

She's sitting in one of the patio chairs, staring out at the city and hugging her knees tightly to her chest.

She jumps when he places his hand on the door handle, getting to her feet with an agility that has Tim recalling the first time he'd seen just how fast her reflexes were — when pervy PA Brad had attempted to grope her on their wedding day.

His eyes follow the movement as she reaches for the handgun on the side table while simultaneously whirling to face him. He immediately releases the door and lifts his hands.

"It's just me," he reassures through the glass.

Thankfully, her ability to assess a situation is just as fast as her response time, and the weapon never even makes it off the table. She's better than many of the actual cops he's trained, and he can't help but feel an odd fusion of pride and comfort around just how capable she is of taking care of herself. Even if, for a moment there, he'd wondered if sneaking up on her was about to get him shot.

She presses her eyes closed and briefly covers her face with her hands as he slides the door open. "I'm so sorry, Tim. I didn't know you were headed back."

"You weren't responding to my texts so..." he shrugs. "Who exactly were you expecting me to be?"

It's then that he notices just how badly her hands have begun shaking.

It's suddenly crystal clear why Jackson had been so upset at the prospect of her being left on her own tonight. Distracted by the situation with Isabel, it's obvious now that earlier he'd mistaken her fear for concern, but there's no mistaking it now. She is terrified.

He swallows back his own visceral response to seeing her so rattled as he plays back their exchange from earlier, and the pieces of the puzzle finally begin to come together.

"The fires near the prison — you're worried about what would happen if — you're worried about somebody getting out."

Her eyes well as she nods. "I — I know there's basically no chance of that happening, and Jackson keeps telling me that I'll be notified immediately if something does happen, and it's 254 miles away, but I can't..." her voice breaks, and she shrugs helplessly, before lifting a hand to swipe at her red-rimmed eyes.

His heart aches at the realization that he'd left her when she was feeling so vulnerable. He doesn't care how remote the possibility is or whether her response is rational, he cares about the fact that she clearly feels like she is in very real danger.

"Lucy..." he begins gently.

"No — it's okay. I know I'm being ridiculous." She forces a smile as she changes the subject. "How did things go with Isabel?"

Her walls couldn't be more different from his own on the surface, but they are walls just the same.

He ignores her attempt to deflect. "Why didn't you tell me what was going on, Lucy?" He doesn't mean for it to come out sounding like an accusation, but it does.

Her smile disappears, and she shakes her head. "Because I was fine, and —"

"You don't look fine, Lucy," he snaps. He again immediately regrets the harshness of his tone when her face falls.

Jackson's words echo in his head. This isn't how he's going to reach her.

He pushes a hand back through his hair in frustration. He doesn't want to feel like this — like he is again failing the one person he wants to be there for the most.

He's lived the story of being with someone who wouldn't, maybe even couldn't, turn to him when she needed help. He can't live it again.

But Lucy isn't Isabel, and it's not fair for him to make her continue to carry the burden of his past disappointments.

"I just — I don't understand why you told me to go if you were so upset, Lucy," he says, this time unable to keep the raw vulnerability out of his voice.

She swallows and raises her weary eyes to his. "Because I know how important she is to you, Tim."

It's a simple answer.

A truth he can't deny.

Isabel is important to him; she's always going to be important to him.

But it's not the only truth.

"You're important to me, Lucy."

She blinks rapidly as her tears threaten to spill over, "I know, Tim. I know how much you care about me."

"Do you? Because if that's true, you have to know I'd want to know that you were feeling like this, no matter what else was going on. It killed me to hear it from Jackson —"

"He shouldn't have said anything," she snaps, cutting him off in a way that indicates she's already well aware of the exchange he'd had with Jackson at the station.

He stares at her in confusion and disbelief, "Is that really what you think the issue is right now?"

She looks up at him with pleading eyes, as if begging him to understand. "What was I supposed to do, Tim? I didn't want to make — She was your wife. She needed you."

And he knows. He knows she would never have wanted to put him in a position where he had to choose.

But it's the way she says it. So matter of factly. As if there was no other way this thing could have gone. No universe where he'd stayed behind with her.

He's not sure whether that hurts or makes him love her that much more. Because of her heart. Because she sees him so clearly — maybe even better than he sees himself.

Because six weeks ago, a month ago, a week ago, hell, maybe even a few hours ago, he probably couldn't have seen it going any other way either.

When he started this journey, he hadn't been ready to admit that he'd clung to the idea of Isabel, and what they were supposed to have had together as some idealized benchmark. Right up until he'd allowed the failure to meet that benchmark to mutate into a validation of his very worst beliefs about himself.

He hadn't wanted to acknowledge that he'd carried those beliefs as he'd gone through the motions of moving on without realizing he was dying under the weight of them.

But then he'd met a woman that made him want to challenge those beliefs.

On a ridiculous reality TV show.

He'd married a stranger at first sight.

Never in a million years would he have guessed that this weird voyeuristic game of house they were playing would somehow become something very, very real.

Lucy had done more than just open his eyes to the person he was becoming. She'd seen good in him, even after he'd shown her the very worst of himself. She'd made him want to be better.

She'd given him hope.

And somewhere along the way, she'd become the most important thing in his life.

He swallows, trying to get a handle on his emotion. "And what about you, Lucy?"

Her lower lip quivers, and she looks away.

But he can still see it. Her walls crumbling down.

He can still see her. The woman who had broken down in front of him after nearly dying in those caves — haunted and scared and vulnerable.

"Lucy," he begs as the tightness in his chest threatens to crawl into his throat.