Chapter Text
Hours later and knee-deep in the search for the crew who’d stolen money from the bank Nyla and James had been, Tim and Thorsen finally engage their main suspect.
They are in the middle of a residential neighborhood, seeking cover behind a parked car as bullets race by their heads. All attempts at a clear shot have been unsuccessful. Tim hates what he’s about to do, but a prolonged shoot-out is bound to kill an innocent passerby.
It’s a tough call, but he orders Thorsen to suspend fire and lets the suspect flee by car, turning the manhunt into a car chase through one of LA’s busiest freeways.
Tim knows the streets; he’s done this before. But there are things one cannot predict, like the car that comes out of nowhere and forces Tim to hastily turn the shop to avoid the crash.
As quickly as it appeared, the car vanished over the sound of horns and screeching tires.
Tim hears Thorsen radioing in the direction their suspect might have taken. He prepares to reverse the car and pursue his probably long-gone suspect when another surprise hits him. Literally.
Instead of using the element of surprise to get away, the suspect positioned his car behind the shop and took advantage of that to drive them off the freeway.
With no time to deviate from the metal rail, Tim pushes his foot on the brake and hurriedly puts the car in park. But to no avail. There must have been a crack in the rail because he hears the scrape of metal against metal and feels when the front wheels leave the road.
Tim’s heart is racing. With his driver's side window rolled down, he’s weirdly thankful for his “no AC before noon” rule. Through it, he can see the cars moving beneath the freeway overpass — their sizes too small for his liking. In front of him, the clear sky. Right beside him, he hears the heavy panting coming from Thorsen.
They are both using their body strength to force themselves back against their seats. Still, they know the shop is hanging precariously and won’t withstand another blow from their assailant.
“What’s the plan?” Tim hears the panic in Thorsen’s voice, thankful that, despite the fear, his aide is as still as he is. “Can you reverse it?”
Tim looks through his window again, assessing how much of the car is out off the road without sticking his head out. “Nope, not enough traction!”
A familiar panic starts to creep in. Decades of life-threatening situations have acquainted him with sweaty palms and shallow breathing, signs that can cloud his mind if he let them.
Tim looks around him, trying to keep his movements small and smooth. He needs to live. Thorsen needs to live. The officer is a loyal young man with a bright career ahead of him. And Tim? He doesn’t want to let his mind list the reasons he wants to live. Still, as juvenile as it may sound, one thing involuntarily pops into his head: he needs to go on a date. A first date, actually — a first date with Lucy because if he's honest with himself, he wants to be his last first date.
They need to get out.
Tim knows what to do. He just wishes they were inside a different type of vehicle.
He has already hit the brakes and shifted the shop to park, so the next step is to change the center of balance. Usually, despite the life-or-death situation, that would only require reclining their seats, reducing the chances of the car tipping forward. But they can’t do that with the barrier separating the front and back seats.
Well, they’ll have to make do with what they have.
“Listen to me and listen to me carefully,” he warns Thorsen in a low voice. “I'm going to turn off the shop and unlock the doors, and when I do, you’re not going to move, you’re not going to breath, you’re not going to think because if you do, we both turn into pancakes and I would prefer in not having the county coroner scraping my body off the Interstate today.”
“What?” Aaron’s voice comes high-pitched.
After a deep breath, Tim explains, “The vibration of the car might move the shop. And the doors need to be unlocked–”
“Okay, okay. Do it. Just do it.” Thorsen’s voice comes out shaken, but Tim knows him enough now to be sure he won’t freeze when the moment comes.
“Whatever happens, no sudden moments,” Tim punctuates each of his last three words. “Whatever we do, we do it nice and easy.”
In his peripheral vision, he can just about see Thorsen’s wool pants, but he feels the eyes of the younger officer boring holes in his right hand as it leaves the steering wheel to reach the ignition.
Tim turns off the car and hears the doors unlock. Despite the slight relief of being closer to freedom the lack of the engine’s noise makes it easier to hear the rails scratching the sides of the front of the shop. Not an encouraging sound at all.
“What’s next?” Thorsen asks, a whimper leaving his mouth as they hear the shop creaking.
“Aaron,” Tim’s voice is as reassuring as he can make it, “we are going to get out of here. But we need to get everything ready so we can move quickly when the time comes; you got it?”
“Yeah, got it. Cool as a cucumber here.” Tim only spares Thorsen an exasperated eyeroll because he fears that might contribute to their fall.
“Focus.”
“Yes, sir. What now?”
Every fiber of Tim’s being is screaming to get the hell out of that shop, but he knows their next move is a tricky one. “Seat belts.”
He catches the shadow of Thorsen’s hand moving and has to still himself not to stop it mid-air. “Wait, wait!”
“What?”
“Don’t forget to hold it. Before you unbuckle, hold the belt, and don’t let it retract”
“Copy that. Nice and easy?”
“Nice and easy.”
“Okay.”
In tandem, each with an eye on the other’s movement, they slowly reach for the belt buckle. Tim presses his and hears a soft click, followed instantly by Thorsen’s. His muscles ache at the effort of holding still, the controlled movement of his hand keeping the belt in place contradicting his eagerness to get out.
“Aaron, here comes the worst part, okay?”
“Okay. What do we do?”
“We get out.”
“And that’s the worst part?” Thorsen laughs, a hint of desperation seeping through his voice. They hear the metal screeching again. “Tell me, how that’s the worst part?”
“We need to open the doors and jump.”
“ Oh .”
“Open it as fast as you can, but only enough for you to throw yourself out. Just get out and roll as far from the shop as you can.”
“Copy.”
“I’ll count. We open and jump on three.”
“Wait! On three or after three?”
If Tim could smack Thorsen in the head that moment, he absolutely would. “ On three.”
“Copy. I’m ready.”
Tim places his left hand on the door handle. “One, two, THREE.”
Tim uses all his strength to push the door open and toss himself out. He feels the gust of hot air as soon as he’s clear and is actually thankful when the asphalt scratches and burns his hands and forearms, his duty-belt hitting forcefully against his hip in ways he knows will leave bruises.
The shop tilts forward; just a matter of time until it slips.
Relief washes over him when he sees Thorsen across from him, also on the ground. For a minute, Thorsen doesn’t seem to mind the scorching asphalt as he continues to lay splayed out, arms stretched out to the sky fists held high. A celebration, a prayer, who knows.
Tim gets up, swearing he’ll forever deny how much his legs seem to shake. He’s barely upright when the deafening sound of scraping metal makes him recoil, the broken rail grazing the open doors until the shop plummets to the street below.
In unison, Tim and Thorsen make their way to the edge, watching the commotion around the crushed vehicle.
“Holy shit,” breaths Thorsen. Tim couldn’t agree more. He sees the glass shards spreading around what used to be their shop. It is now upside down, the front looking like it went through a trash compactor.
He is not a big “what if” kind of guy, but it is daunting to think they were inside of it barely a minute ago. If he hadn’t hit the brakes fast enough, if the car had rolled a bit further from the edge, if– The sound of their call sign on the radio snaps him out of it. Tim reports what just happened and gives dispatch their location, asking for a CSU unit, an ambo and a couple of officers – protocol dictates they need to be checked, and the DA’s office will need the evidence to add more charges once LAPD catches their suspect.
A shop pulls over beside the crushed vehicle, and Tim recognizes the shine of Webb’s head when he and McNeil start to isolate the scene. The crowd around the ruined car is getting bigger. A bunch of raised arms with cellphones in hand, probably recording the seemingly exciting event to post on ClipTok for everyone to see – especially a certain social media addict who loves to check her phone whenever she gets a break from work.
“Hey, they’re here,” Thorsen motions his head towards the arriving ambulance.
“You can go first. I’ll be right there.”
He pulls out his phone and texts a simple “I’m okay.” Lucy likely has heard him through the radio, or someone might have relayed the information to her; still, she deserves to hear it from him. He knows he would need to hear it directly from her if the situation had been reversed. He scoffs to himself. Hell, he’d probably be rushing toward the scene if that had been the case.
The paramedics give them the all-clear. Half an hour later, Juarez’s voice comes through the radio, announcing that the suspect was finally apprehended.
In the midst of securing the warbags and canvassing traffic cameras, Tim receives a message from his Army buddy, confirming an opening in the restaurant. Calculating the amount of paperwork that would come out of the accident, Tim knows the third time is not the charm. Another possible reservation going down the drain.
Much later, Tim and Aaron arrive at the station. Grey is dealing with the bank robbery aftermath, so he can focus on his own paperwork for now.
After a necessary breather in the locker room, the young man heads out to grab them some coffee and snacks while Tim collects the obligatory forms he needs to fill out.
Tim is double-checking if he’s got all they’ll need when he sees Lucy in the copy room. And well… bureaucratic forms are always tortuous to fill out. Thorsen might be a P2, but he’s barely out of long sleeves, and they all know how young officers get after an adrenaline rush. He can’t have his aide making a mistake on an official document and trying to scratch it out, right? An additional copy might be handy.
Lucy is cussing at the stubborn copy machine when he enters the room. He sees when she notices another human present and turns around, looking ready to share her frustration with the next officer to face the fickle machine.
“It’s unb–,” she cuts herself short when she sees him. Her eyes turn soft, and her posture relaxes. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he smiles. She is the worried one, but relief washes over him instead. It’s funny how he seemed to feel fine thirty seconds ago, but now, with her brown eyes scanning him, he feels whole.
Tim notices Lucy looking behind him, probably gauging if anyone is paying attention to them. She makes a low needy noise that could very much have come from him. He wishes he could get close to her. Hug her. Hold her near him and convince her he is fine. All he wants to do is close the door and hug her, but they can’t.
“So, my friend texted,” he starts, positioning himself in front of the counter and dropping his stack of files. His eyes go through the random stationery objects there, and he pretends to be very interested in his choice of paper clips. “He has an opening for tonight, but…”
“...but we’re not gonna make it,” Lucy completes. Tim shakes his head. Lucy nods, looking away and biting the inside of her cheek.
Tim’s dated another cop before; he knows syncing schedules is not easy. Right now, he wants to appreciate the fact they work at the same station and see each other practically every day. But as calm and collected as he can be, this is their first date and he’s dying to finally be near her again. To allow himself to be near her, look at her unabashedly and finally, finally touch her again.
“Hey,” Lucy draws his attention back to her. “It’s okay.” Her smile is sweet and he can tell she really means it. “We’ll find a day,” she says, looking around once again.
She moves closer to him, motioning to get a stapler on a shelf near him. His body buzzes with the possibility of closeness, even if the back of his mind lights up an alert reminding him there are several coworkers right beyond the door.
She places her hand on the counter, balancing herself as she rises on tiptoes to grab the object.
“You know I can get that for you, right?” he murmurs quietly.
“That would defeat the point,” she answers through her teeth.
She gets the stapler but doesn’t back away. Instead, she moves her hand ever so slightly and wraps her pinky finger around his. There is a hopeful glint in her eyes, “we will find another day. Today, I’m just happy you’re okay.”
Tim’s heart felt lighter in an instant, but before he could reply, Thorsen shows up, making Tim and Lucy retract their hands.
“Oh, I’ve been looking for–,” Aaron interrupts himself, looking from Tim to Lucy. “Uh–” Tim raises his brow, waiting for the officer to continue and pretending his heart is not about to beat out of his chest. “Sorry for the delay; I was on the phone with my mom.”
“Close calls, huh?” Lucy replies softly.
“Yeah, I needed to talk to her after today. Just hear her voice for a moment, you know?”
Yeah, Tim knows, but he doesn’t trust himself to say it aloud without giving too much away in front of his aide. Life is short and their job is dangerous – commonplace truths that are easy to forget and do something about them.
“Are you okay now?” Lucy asks with what Tim knows is genuine interest.
“Yeah, yeah. Ready to get back at it.”
“Good,” he suddenly prompts, grabbing the forgotten stack of papers and placing it not so gently into Thorsen’s hands, “you can make a head start on that, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Okay,” answers a wide-eyed Thorsen. “Yes, sir.” He nods to Lucy and heads out.
Tim squares his shoulders and turns back to face Lucy. “No, we won’t.”
“What?”
“We won’t find another day. We’ll have our date tonight.” His voice is low, but certain.
Lucy narrows her eyes, “Didn’t you just say we won’t make it in time?”
“I did,” he replies simply. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Tim looks outside the copy room, takes a step back as if he was about to leave, but then raises his eyes to her.
“Look…” He takes a deep breath but finds that exhaling is easier than he thought it would be. “I know I said this morning that I want to take you on a proper date, and I will. I’ll pick you up at your apartment, drive you to a fancy restaurant and—”
“Kiss me goodnight by my door at the end?”
He frowns, pretending to be unamused by her maddening pout, the one she uses to try to keep herself from grinning.
“What I am trying to say is…” he waits to see if she’ll let him continue. “We will go on a proper date. Just… not tonight. Just not our first.”
“Hmm, so are you taking me for coffee then?” she jokes.
“No,” he frowns. Again. “But we can finish our shift, drive to your place, so you can leave your car, then we drive around. We can figure out together where we’ll go.”
“I like that.”
And just like that, the tingling sensation is back, spreading through his entire body. “Good.”
“See you later, then.” She passes by him with a new pep in her step, and he immediately knows the end of this shift will seem like it’s never going to come.