Work Text:
He almost misses the call.
It’s late, he’s had an exhausting week at work and things had finally fizzled out with Ashley. All he wants to do is go to bed. Shut the world out.
By Monday morning he should have himself put back together.
But then his phone rings.
He’s tempted to ignore it. An unknown number calling him after 10pm can’t lead to anything good. And so help him if it’s a spam caller. He’s not in the mood to stop himself from giving some poor minimum wage worker a tongue lashing.
His sense of duty is the only thing that convinces him to pick up the vibrating device just before the call is sent to voicemail. Now that he’s a sergeant, he has more responsibility. Lives are in his hands. He doesn’t have the luxury of shutting down just because he isn’t on the clock. Because if he misses something important because he didn’t feel like picking up—
He lets out a sigh, the phone pressed to his ear while his other hand scrubs at his forehead. “Bradford.”
“—im?”
It’s quiet. More of a gasp than a word.
But he’d recognize that voice anywhere.
He bolts upright, a chill slithering down the back of his neck. “Lucy?”
All that answers him for at least a minute is labored breathing and his heart climbs into his throat.
She’s undercover. He has no idea where. He doesn’t even know what type of case she’d been assigned to.
He’d distanced himself. He’d thought it had been for the best. After he’d told her to move on, she’d grown cold and standoffish. She had so much on her plate between her guilt over Chris and the stress of Rosalind being on the loose. He didn’t want to add to it. So - at least outwardly - he’d walked away.
And even though it didn’t take long for her relationship to fall apart once Chris started obsessing over the serial killer, Tim had still kept his distance. It was the right thing to do. Rumors had already started to spread after Vegas. He’d heard the whispers. It didn’t matter that nothing had actually happened. If they’d gone back to riding together it would have negatively impacted Lucy’s career.
That didn’t mean he didn’t keep tabs on her. He was all over Harper, trying to make sure she stayed safe. He knew she’d been growing more reckless. He was worried. But there was only so much he could do.
“N-need back up,” she finally mumbles, snapping the present back into focus.
His brow furrows as he stands up, rummaging one handed for clothes. Why is she calling him? Lucy is a pro at UC. She doesn’t screw up. She follows protocol to a T.
Something is seriously wrong.
As if the pain lacing her voice wasn’t enough of an indication.
“Did you call your case officer?” He asks in a low voice. It probably sounds callous - like he doesn’t want to deal with whatever’s going on with her. But it’s important for him to know. He’s already trying to cut through the panic and think ahead. If there’s a reason she didn’t go through the proper channels, he needs to know it.
“No!” She asserts sharply then coughs. “C-can’t— Can’t trust.”
This is bad. That’s the one resounding thought that echoes through his head. He’s got absolutely nothing to go on, and if he can’t even trust the department—
“S-sorry,” she whispers in a broken voice. “Only number I could re-member.”
“No,” he interjects quickly. “I’m glad you called, Luce. Just hang on, okay?”
He scrambles for his money clip and his badge. They’re where they always are— on his bedside table to the left of his lamp. But he’s having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that Lucy’s in trouble and he needs to get to her.
“Where are you?” He asks, already on the move toward his closet, about to clear out the small arsenal in his gun safe.
“Warehouse,” she huffs out. “Fif… Fifteen minute drive,” she swallows drily, the sound echoing across the line. “From T-torrance. Holi-day… Inn.”
His eyes close, squeezing tightly shut. That could literally be anywhere. The sinking feeling he’d been trying to keep at bay multiplies in intensity until he’s swaying on his feet. This is like Caleb all over again. Except maybe worse… because he’s close enough to talk to her but still just as helpless.
Wedging the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he hurriedly jams everything into a duffel bag. “Do you know which direction?”
She hums. “Highway. S-south I think.”
He presses his lips together and slings the bag over his shoulder. At least that’s better. He’s still going to need someone to trace the call, but at least he can start heading in the right direction - or what he hopes is the right direction. He jogs down the hall and snags his keys off the hook by the door. Kojo lifts his head, giving his owner an anxious whine. Tim shakes his head, motioning for the dog to stay as he throws the door open. “Are you safe?”
“H-iding.” She’s starting to slur her words. “Ssshipping containers.”
He pauses, the door to his truck half open. “Can you hear planes taking off?”
“MmmMmm…” she denies, the hum vibrating through tightly pressed together lips.
He thinks that through. If there’s shipping containers in a warehouse and she’s not near LAX, then she’s probably near the port. “Okay. That’s good, Luce. You keep hiding, okay? I’m getting the cavalry together. We’re on our way. But you stay on the line. Understand?” His truck roars to life and he floors it, backing out of the driveway haphazardly, then gunning it down the street.
“Tim it’s trafficking,” a fresh wave of panic suddenly lends strength to her voice. “You c-can’t use lights and sirens. They’ll k-kill them all.”
His teeth grind together. This just keeps getting better and better. How had she gotten tangled up in such a disaster?
Once this is over, heads are going to roll in the department. He’ll make sure of it.
She lets out a whimper that he manages to interpret as her being frustrated that he hasn’t acknowledged what she said. “I heard you, Luce.”
She exhales. It takes way too long for the line to crackle with her next breath. “Hey.” His voice regains its hard edge - all commanding officer. “You stay focused, Chen. You don’t have to talk, but you stay alert and you stay safe. You know the number one rule of undercover work.” The only response he receives is a crackle in the connection. He takes a sharp turn. “No op is worth your life,” he reminds her sternly. “I mean it, Luce. Even if there are kids involved, you protect yourself first.”
She still doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. He can still hear her. He knows she’s still alive.
The truck screeches to a stop on a quiet street, at a diagonal and half on the sidewalk. “We’re coming, Lucy,” he assures her again before pulling the phone from his ear as he jumps down and sprints for the front door of his best friend’s house.
“Lopez!” He yells in a voice that booms so loud he’s sure to wake the neighbors. He pounds the side of his fist against the door with bruising force. It rattles in its jamb, the sound abrasive.
Jack starts to scream.
Dim lights had still been on, somewhere in the vicinity of the living room, so it doesn’t take long for the door to be thrown open. Angela looks at him with wide eyes, her mouth opening. Tim interrupts before she can say anything. “It’s Lucy. We need to go, now.”
Wes is standing a few feet back, looking torn between staying to hear more and go check on his son. When he hears Lucy’s name, the creases around his eyes deepen. “I’ll go pick up Tamara - make sure she’s doing okay and stay with her until we know more. Keep me updated.”
Angela had turned to grab her gun, but she’s already passing him on her way to his truck. “What do we know?”
Tim shakes his head, keeping pace. “Her op went south. She said it involves trafficking of some sort and her case officer is corrupt at best. I need a trace on the call,” he raises his phone to show her. “She couldn’t be specific on a location.”
He wrenches the door back open and doesn’t even wait to make sure that Angela is safely seated before peeling out again. “Call Grey and Harper. And anyone else you trust. We—” He falters, his throat burning. “We need to be on this right now. Fuck.”
Angela looks up from her phone, her hand landing lightly on his forearm, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the wired tension of the muscles underneath. The concern shining in her eyes nearly makes him choke. He keeps his focus forward, staring resolutely out the windshield.
“How bad is it?” She asks him softly.
He swallows back any emotion - he has to stay focused. He shakes his head. “I’m too afraid to ask. Bad enough that she’s definitely in shock.”
He makes the mistake of glancing over again, sees the way that Angela goes pale. His stomach lurches.
“She’s strong, Tim. She’s not going to go out without a fight.”
He nods tightly. He just hopes that they find her in time.
The edges of his phone bite into his flesh as his fingers tense unconsciously. It’s been too long since he checked in. Part of him is avoiding it— the subconscious part that knows that he’ll be absolutely shattered if he has to listen to her die over a phone call.
But he has a duty to uphold. And Lucy deserves better.
He brings the device back to his ear, tuning out Angela’s clipped words as the detective tries to organize some kind of rescue operation beside him.
“You still with me, Luce?”
Nothing but shallow breathing. His foot depresses the accelerator another degree.
“Lucy?” He prompts again, anxiety making his voice higher.
“Mmm,” she groans. He hears the muffled sound of her shifting. “Cover name’s Julie.”
He bites his tongue. There’s no way he’s protecting her cover once they get on scene. He doesn’t give a shit - no matter the outcome, she’s not going back under with the same organization.
“Talk— me,” she mumbles haltingly. “Want… hear— your voice.”
“Okay,” he whispers. Then stronger, “Okay.” He struggles to come up with a topic that could bring her some comfort but his mind is frazzled, trying to concentrate on a hundred different things at once and it takes him a minute. “I think Kojo has a girlfriend.”
Lucy coughs out a laugh and despite himself, the corners of his mouth creep up into a grin.
“He dug a hole under the back fence,” he continues. “At first I felt bad— thinking it was because I’d taken so much overtime lately.” He cuts off that train of thought, making it sound dismissive so that she won’t know to analyze it. So that she won’t realize it was his way of trying to stop himself from pining after her like an idiot. “But then I found out the neighbors have a Cavalier King Charles. Apparently he’s been sneaking out regularly for months.”
Lopez touches his knee. “Harper pulled some strings. Found out she was working a human trafficking ring targeting vulnerable young women. Not much else in the file was useful— they don’t know whether the case officer was peddling false info.”
He doesn’t let his voice waver. Just keeps talking. “Damn dog’s been living out his own Lady and the Tramp fantasy right under my nose.”
“Grey says dispatch received a call about a 14 year old girl - Ella Hernandez - said an Asian woman saved her from being loaded into a container— told her to run for help to try to save the ‘others’. They found her on Palos Verdes after she stumbled across traffic from the harbor. They’re still working on getting a more specific location, but Grey thinks it’s connected.”
They lock eyes and Tim swallows. There’s no denying that that sounds like Lucy. His chest tightens and he pushes harder, weaving dangerously through traffic on the 110.
“I don’t have the heart to tell him she’s out of his league,” he continues his story, his words getting more quiet as he fights to still keep things light even though more and more dread is pooling in his gut. “Or that he’s neutered.”
Lucy huffs what he thinks is a breathless chuckle. “K-ko… Kojo’s— k-king.”
He smiles to himself, though it’s more of a sad expression than one made out of any real amusement. “Should’ve known you’d take his side.”
Angela’s nails dig through the fabric of his jeans. “The trace came back. Signal’s coming from a warehouse just off the docks. They’re sending the location through now.”
He sucks in a breath. “We’ve got you, Luce. We’re coming. Less than 10 minutes out, okay?” Or at least they will be, the way that he’s pushing his vehicle to the limits. “We’ll be there soon. You just have to—”
He cuts off as the sound of gunshots followed by high pitched screams echo across the line. They’re far off… he’s not worried that she’s hit.
That isn’t what causes his gut to plummet.
No - he’s panicking for a completely different reason. And it multiplies tenfold when Lucy whispers a quiet ‘no’, then whimpers and shuffles as if she’s trying to stand.
“Lucy, listen to me,” he grits out tersely.
She lets out a whine, her breathing getting more harsh.“Lucy!” He shouts, willing her to stop. “You can’t help anyone if you’re dead. Please—”
“’M sorry,” she slurs.
He’s nearly deafened by the sound of her phone skittering across the concrete. He knows she’s gone. That doesn’t stop him from continuing to call out to her. “Chen!”
A cavernous silence.
“Lucy!”
Angela looks at him with wide, horrified eyes. He can feel the cool trail of a single tear leaking down his cheek. He clenches the phone so hard, he’s surprised it doesn’t break. Then he punches the steering wheel. “Goddammit, Chen!”
He throws the device into the console, shifting to grip the wheel with both hands.
Angela grabs the handle above the door, leaning into the truck's motion. “The South Bureau is sending a tac unit from Harbor Division. Nolan, Grey, Harper, and Thorsen will meet us there. A staging area is already being set up. By the time we get there, they’ll be ready to put things in motion. She’ll hang in there, Tim.”
His fingers flex. Ten minutes is an eternity to wait for backup on a good day. When she’s already injured and running to put herself between a civilian and a bullet?
Any delusions he’d had that this might have had a happy ending are quickly fading. This is like looking for Isabel all over again. Only this time he hasn’t had a year to prepare himself to find her body.
And he knows why that hurts so much. Why it’s so much more overwhelming than if it had been any of his other coworkers. But he can’t think about that. Not without spiralling down and down until he’s useless to everyone. He still has a job to do.
He reminds himself to keep it together. Slows his heart rate until it no longer feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest. Focuses on the road.
He peels the truck off onto the exit then navigates the maze of terminals at Angela’s direction until they get to the scene. They’re two buildings down from the address that the techs gave them. The area is flooded with patrol cars, and even a SWAT unit. And yet it’s shockingly quiet— respecting Lucy’s request to not draw attention to the operation.
Nolan meets them the moment they step out of the truck, having been working a night shift when he’d heard. He hands them equipment - vests and helmets; utility belts and radios, as well as rifles fitted with scopes. Tim keeps his off duty weapon holstered at his ankle and is tempted to bring even more of his personal inventory. But he doesn’t want to delay the mission by getting into an argument with the field commander, so he steels himself, shutting the door with his shoulders tensed.
Grey and Harper haven’t arrived yet. Tim pressures things to move forward anyway. Lucy could literally only have minutes left. He’s almost at the point of saying screw protocol and going in on his own when the SWAT leader reluctantly agrees and they’re on their way.
Looking back, the operation mostly happens in a blur. He remembers frightened young faces, sweaty and covered in dirt, staring at him with dark, wide eyes. He remembers Lopez staying pressed close to his shoulder at every turn, a gentle touch to his side every time they clear a room without finding what they’re looking for. Beyond that, there isn’t much. He has a singular focus and every other detail is irrelevant.
He can feel his heart pounding in his throat, his vision almost pulsing with it as he scans his light across the ground, looking for any hint of where she might be.
And then…
It’s a smaller room - an office. There’s a teenager in the corner, a stark white bandage secured around her upper arm and a female officer shaking out an emergency blanket to wrap around her shoulders. There are also two large men, their hair slicked to their heads and their skin covered in tattoos. Officers in tactical gear are working on securing their wrists behind their backs while their rights are being read.
But Tim barely pays them any mind.
He’s focused solely on the crumpled form near the far wall, half hidden under a desk, a cascade of dark hair pooling on the floor around her.
He whips off his helmet then skids to her side on his knees, clumsily grabbing at her shoulders to turn her over into his lap. “Lucy?!”
He lets out a hiss, seeing her clammy, sallow skin and the dark maroon soaking through the entire lower part of her shirt. He rips his radio from its clip, barely even having time to depress the button before he starts speaking rapid fire. “Dispatch, this is Sergeant Bradford, badge number 3483 requesting an immediate RA to the special operation underway at the port. Officer down. Repeat - Officer down. Multiple stab wounds. Severe blood loss. Unconscious but breathing.”
Letting the mic drop, he grabs blindly for anything nearby. He ends up with something - a scarf? A blanket? He’ll never know - that he wads up and presses firmly into her abdomen, the wounds feeling almost spongy under his hand. Steeling himself, he holds the pressure tight enough that he knows it has to hurt, but she doesn’t even cringe.
“Luce?” He mutters, her head cradled against his shoulder so that all that he can see is her ghostly pale face.
Angela leans over him, her touch grounding in the center of his back. “Ambulance is 4 minutes out. I’m gonna go guide the paramedics in. This place is a maze.”
He barely even recognizes that she’s speaking to him. “Lucy,” he tries again. He shifts his grip up until he’s cupping her cheek with his free hand, his fingers leaving crimson streaks in their wake. Her breathing is so rapid and laborious that her entire frame shakes in his arms.
“Come on, Chen,” he pleads. “Open those eyes for me.” He can’t explain why, but it feels like never gazing into their deep warmth again will be the end of him. His fingers indent her skin even more. “That’s a direct order, Lucy. Don’t make me write you up for insubordination.” His voice falters, taking the usual bite out of his command.
But her eyelids do crack. After a couple more shallow breaths, her lips curve upward into a tender smile that he can’t help but return, even though his chest is burning. “Knew,” she rasps. She licks her lips to no avail and tries again. “Kn-new… find me—”
He nods, his chin sliding against her forehead. “Always.”
He brushes her hair back shakily, sweeping it from her temple. “You stay with me, Lucy. You understand? Help is almost here. You’ve just got to hang on a little bit longer.” She hums low in her throat, her eyes fluttering shut again. He shakes his head against her crown. “Come on. Stay with me, Baby.”
She starts to sag and the terror he feels is all consuming. He presses his lips to her hairline and kisses it fiercely. “Come on, Chen. Don’t let go. Please don’t go.”
Someone touches his back and he flinches away before blinking enough to realize that the paramedics have arrived. They’ve lowered a backboard to the floor on her other side and are waiting impatiently for Tim to give them room to work.
He takes a deep breath and it catches in his chest. Wiping his face on his shoulder, he does what he can to pull himself together. “How can I help?”
The closer paramedic eyes him warily and Tim tenses, preparing himself to be told to back off like he’s a civilian.
By some miracle that doesn’t happen. The man eyes the LAPD insignia on his vest and seems to come to the conclusion that he can be of use. “Think you can keep holding pressure?”
Tim nods hurriedly, helping to shift Lucy over to the hard plastic. The truth is, nothing could stop him from taking that ambulance ride with her. But things will be a hell of a lot easier if he’s actually invited to be there.
“Good,” the paramedic grunts, starting to efficiently hook straps over her legs and chest, while his partner works on stabilizing her head and neck. “We could use the extra set of hands.” And then they’re moving - the female paramedic making clipped calls into the radio, relaying Lucy’s stats and calling for a trauma bay to be open and ready for them at Torrance Memorial. Gauze gets thrown to Tim and he piles it on top of what he’s already holding, bile rising in his throat when it quickly soaks through. He has no idea how so much blood could be contained within a body so small, and finds it hard to believe that she has any left.
But she’s still fighting, still breathing, and he refuses to give up.
Lopez grabs the medic’s arm before he can disappear into the back of the bus, leveling him with a stern look. “She just saved dozens of girls from a fate worse than death. You do not let her die. Do you understand me?”
He nods, pulling himself free and climbing up the back step. Angela catches Tim next, their fingers briefly tangling together as they lock eyes. No words need to be exchanged. Tim isn’t sure he has it in him to say anything anyway. Clearing his throat, his hand falls back to the side of the gurney as he follows it inside.
The siren blares, echoing in his skull as the world blurs around him. All he can see clearly is Lucy, her eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks with every bump. He crouches over her, leaning in close until his lips are practically pressed to her ear as he whispers quiet assurances. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re going to pull through.
I need you.
He’s warned that she’ll be taken straight to surgery and that he can’t go with her, but he still follows, as if in a trance, until a solemn looking older gentleman stops him with a hand to the center of his chest and a subtle shake of his head. The double doors close with a click that echoes in the hollow space where his heart should be.
And Tim is lost.
Because this isn’t Shaw Memorial. There are no familiar faces able to step in and reassure him. There’s no comfort of recognizable hallways and a layout he knows like the back of his hand. He wouldn’t even know where to find a damn vending machine if he had to.
So he just stands there, in the middle of the stark white hallway, and he waits.
Eventually their friends arrive, greeting him with reassuring pats on the back and sad smiles, but he’s still frozen. Etched in marble like some kind of macabre statue.
Angela manages to coax him into a staff washroom a few hours later. She scrubs Lucy’s blood off of his arms and out from under his nails while he just stares at it blankly.
He swears he doesn’t even blink, until a doctor comes out to tell them that she’d survived surgery and was being moved to the ICU. He would have fallen to his knees if Angela hadn’t been hooked under his arm, holding him upright.
But the wait isn’t over. It lasts almost another 5 days until the doctors feel comfortable weaning her off of the anesthetic and bringing her back from her induced coma.
He’d barely left her side during that time, only switching off with Angela long enough to shower and change before coming back each day. Grey approved his time off easily, especially when they found out that Lucy had listed Tim as her medical proxy at some point. Lucy’s status was touch and go for the first 48 hours and the watch commander had essentially insisted that he stay at the hospital, just in case.
Not that Tim could have imagined himself being anywhere else. Anxiety had made him feel like his skin was too tight and his rib cage was encased in concrete on the few short occasions someone had convinced him to leave.
But all of that tension is finally starting to ease, because Lucy starts to wake.
It doesn’t happen all at once. At first, her eyes open a few times before once again fluttering closed, the pull of the drugs still too strong. Tim isn’t worried. He’s spent far too much time in his life waiting patiently beside a hospital bed. He knows it’s normal.
It isn’t until her hand squeezes his back that he knows she’s finally coming around for real.
And a bolt of lighting jolts through his chest.
“Ow,” she mumbles, her brow furrowing.
The corner of his mouth ticks up, warmth flooding his veins. “I bet.”
Her answering grin lights up her whole face, the sunlight from the window reflecting off of her beautiful eyes. She licks at her chapped lips and he leans over instantly, grabbing a cup with a straw that one of the nurses had left behind and holding it steady for her.
She takes a couple of short pulls before letting her head fall back to the pillow with a grimace.
“Easy,” he mutters tenderly. “They did a lot of damage, Luce. The knife even punctured your diaphragm. It’s gonna take a while for everything to heal.”
She groans, letting her eyes roll up to the ceiling in frustration, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.
“Hey,” he pulls his chair closer, shifting his grip so that he’s holding her hand between both of his own. “Every single one of those girls is alive and someplace safe because of you, Lucy. Ella made it out. She wants to come visit you once you’re feeling better.” His thumb strokes across the back of her wrist, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. “The paperwork for your commendation is still wrapped up in bureaucracy, but the chief has already approved your golden ticket. Nolan’s still whining about how you’re stealing his spotlight,” he teases. She doesn’t need to know that the doctors still aren’t sure at what capacity she’ll be able to rejoin the force. That’s a conversation they can have another day.
She lets her gaze flicker down to search his face. “So it was real then?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Which part?” She’d been unconscious for days. He had no idea what horrors about her mission she could have dreamed up in that time.
“You came for me,” she whispers, suddenly looking unsure.
“Of course I did.” It’s direct, to the point. Because there’s no universe where he ever would have stopped looking.
The room is quiet as she just stares at him for a long moment. Then she looks away again, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “Right.” She sinks a little lower into the bed, pulling her hand away to play with the edge of the sheet between her fingertips.
And he’s a little stunned. Sure they aren’t as close as they once were, but he never expected her to pull away like this. Especially not after what she’d just been through.
“Lucy…” It comes out as a quiet plea.
She blinks, her lower lip showing the slightest quiver before she can bite it back into submission.
“Luce, I’m so sorry,” he tries again. “I don’t know what I—”
Something shifts behind her eyes. She reaches towards him and he stands without hesitation, leaning over the bed. Her hand hooks around the back of his neck and tugs and he follows without a second thought like a siren’s call.
And once again a shock roars through him as her soft lips press against his, molding them together. He reciprocates instantly, lost in the feeling as his hand comes up to cup her cheek, pulling her closer.
For once she doesn’t jump away. Just tilts her chin down so that their foreheads rest against each other while their breath mingles between them.
She bites into her bottom lip, sucking his taste from her skin and something flutters deep in his belly.
She relaxes her grip slightly, just far enough that they can make eye contact.
“Are we done being idiots about this?” She asks, so quiet it’s barely a whisper on the wind.
His heart is thudding so hard he doesn’t think he can speak, but he manages to nod before diving in for another kiss.
As he pulls back this time, he traces her lower lip with his thumb. “I almost lost you - again, Luce.” He shakes his head. “I’m not wasting any more time. Screw anything else.”
There are more tears in her eyes, but this time they’re accompanied by a soft smile. Her fingers stroke through the short hairs on the back of his head, the light scrape of her nails sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.” She tries to stifle a yawn, her nose wrinkling when even that subtle movement pulls at her stitches. Her expression turns coy. “Because I could really use a nap.”
He can’t help but huff out a quiet chuckle.
Stroking the hair back from her face, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead before settling back into his seat with her hand once again clutched securely within his. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”