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silverskull · 1 year ago

Text

I'll Always Be

(long notes ahead - it's the last day of Chenford Week!)

Chenford Week 2023

Day 7: Free Day

Inspired by a quote and a song & Chenford + that UC life.

This was originally going to be my Day 6 fic, but I really liked how it turned out, and it had the emotional punch I wanted to end my Chenford Week contribution with, so I did a swaperoo.

The song that inspired me was Lover Please Stay - Nothing But Thieves and the quote below is from Steve Goodier:

As much as I enjoy romance, it’s commitment that I need the most. I need to know a love I can depend on, a love that says, “I will be with you through it all. I love you. And I will love you even when you may not be all that lovable, for sometimes I'm not very lovable either. You can count on me - always." - Steve Goodier

I would highly recommend you listen to Consolations of Philosophy - Max Richter (Black Mirror, Nosedive) while you read this. It's got the painful but hopeful undercurrent I felt while writing this.

And lastly, Thank You for Chenford Week, to the organisers, the creators and participants, and most of all - you - the people who read and reblog and leave comments and generally keep the encouragement train chugging along. You have no idea how much your kindness and enthusiasm means to me when I see it. My thanks, as always, to Amanda, for being a listening ear and an eager cheerleader whenever I needed it. 💖

Full fic below the cut (3,800) or here on AO3.

The Teska case was just the beginning.

Of course it was. He knew it would be.

Lucy was so good, that soon other stations started requesting her services.

It started with Noah Foster, something small, up in Victorville. Tim had no reason to be there, and besides, she’d be going under with Noah. Tim trusted Noah.

Or, at least, Tim trusted Lucy.

So he waited in Mid-Wilshire, biding his time with drug seizures and cartel deconstruction, celebrating the wins by sharing his steak with Kojo and, at the weekends, taking Tamara out for whatever weird popup restaurant took her fancy.

Noah’s handler emailed him daily. All fine, no updates. It wasn’t very informative, but he hung onto the first two words for dear life.

One day, the email was late, and he allowed an hour, then two to pass, and was pacing in the tiny path of his office, his thumb hovering over the call button, when the phone sprang to life in his hands. All fine, takedown has begun. Sry for delay.

She was home within the week, and though he’d been on the phone with her almost every hour since she’d dropped her cover, there was nothing like being able to hold her in his arms. She completed her debrief in Victorville so she could go straight home to him, and despite all the promises he’d made on the phone, he found all he wanted to do was squeeze her into him, meld their bodies together right there where they stood in the living room, until she was part of him and he’d never have to let her go again.

***

Three weeks with Noah paled in comparison to a month and a half under, somewhere out between Hollenbeck and Monterey Park.

It was too high-level for him to get away with being her handler again, and his only consolation was that this time, instead, it was Nyla. He could accost her for updates whenever he wanted (even though she’d literally set her phone to forward texts from Lucy’s UC number to his), and whenever there was movement, she’d call him over to observe.

He wasn’t going to say anything, but watching Lucy on the screen probably didn’t make it any easier. At least when she was in Victorville, he knew so little about what was going on, that his mind would spin from one crazy possibility to another with no coherent thought. This time, knowing what she was getting into, seeing footage from the hidden cameras of the squat houses and factories she was spending her days in, it sent his imagination into overdrive; picking one link from what he’d seen and tangling himself up in a chain of morbid scenarios.

He was staying in Lucy’s apartment this time - closer to the station, and with traces of her scent in every corner. Tamara came back from college for a week, and it was good for him. They watched movies and went for a hike - things they’d have done anyway if Lucy was there. She made Lucy’s sleepy tea for him and, somehow, it helped. The herb and camomile taste on his tongue, Lucy’s pillow under his nose, Tamara humming along to her earbuds out in the living room.

He woke one night to a panicked call from Nyla, his legs engaging auto-pilot and dragging him down to his truck in his pyjamas before he had even unscrambled her words.

“There’s been a shoot-out! We’ve lost contact! Lucy’s hurt!”

They were gathered around the monitors on Nyla’s desk, nothing to do but wait for a signal from Hollenbeck Division that they were clear to move out. Harper replayed the footage for him: a night-vision camera in the corner of a meth lab, flashing between light and dark as gunfire sprayed throughout the room. Lucy flew into the frame, throwing her body over a young man crouched behind some pallets, and he could see her shirt rip when the bullet hit, billowing out from her and knocking the two of them over. Something hit the camera then, and it fell, giving one spinning whirl of frantic black and white spirals before cutting out altogether.

He didn’t want to leave, but Nyla suggested that he’d be more useful in his uniform than his pyjamas, and he sprinted to the locker room to change out. He was just tightening the belt on his pants when she burst in through the door, yelling at him that Hollenbeck had finally called for backup. He’d grabbed his duty belt and bodycam, requisitioning Officer Jan and his already-stocked shop, and finished dressing in the passenger’s seat as they sped down the I-10.

It took less than thirty minutes to get to the scene, but it felt like hours, his skin crawling and his muscles cramping with anxiety. Jan wisely stayed silent, his eyes on the road, following the line of shops ahead of them.

She was shot.

She. was. shot.

They’d been lucky so far, and it might have been naïve to imagine such luck would hold out forever, but he knew her better than his own hands, and she could talk her way out of any situation. Why did she run into this fray? Why did she risk her life for some random kid?

It didn’t matter that he didn’t know the boy. He knew the answer: She was Lucy. She was a good person, and she was in this job to help people.

The vehicles ahead of them pulled into a parking lot, and Tim was out almost before Jan had put the shop in park. Ambulances and cruisers littered the area, and he could see a short line of handcuffed suspects, bloody and dishevelled, waiting to be loaded off to lockup.

“Bradford!”

Nyla was running towards him, an unfamiliar man at her side - no, not unfamiliar; he was Lucy’s handler.

“She’s okay, Tim. She’s okay.”

They directed him to an ambulance, and he jogged over, yanking the door open before the EMTs could stop him, and there she was.

Sitting on the stretcher, a medic wrapping thick gauze around her upper arm, and before he could think, she was in his arms, her good hand stroking through his hair and down his back, whispering a steady stream of reassurances into his ear.

A flesh wound. A small chip in her humerus. Surgery to remove the bullet and bandage up the tear. A few weeks of physio and reintegration therapy (for her and him). Slow and steady return to normal work operations.

She needed more than twenty-four hours this time. So did he.

But they managed.

They pulled through.

***

She graduated to P3. Passed the Detective’s exam (her second attempt) a month later.

Moved out from Grey and over to Carradine, and suddenly she was practically her own boss. Picking and choosing from the cream of the caseloads, fending off offers from other departments and divisions. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before. Nyla stood beside him in the breakroom, watching through the window as Lucy gave a talk to a unit from West Valley in the briefing room. They had their own UCs in play, but when she’d declined their offer to enter the field, they jumped at the chance to hear her speak instead.

“That’s my girl,” Nyla said, folding her arms and smirking like a proud mother hen.

“That’s literally my girl,” Tim grouched, gripping his duty belt and stamping his foot petulantly.

There were multiple short-terms after that. A week here, two or three there. Nyla or Angela always took point, their trio as smooth as a well-oiled machine. They kept him looped in, set up small meet points where possible. Just about refrained from calling them ‘conjugal visits’ - to his face at least.

And they carried on.

***

He brought up the topic of kids first.

Something about grandchildren; linked it back to her joke from their early date nights. Tried to make it sound as unrehearsed as possible.

She smiled, curled closer into him, tickled her fingers under his jaw.

Saw right through his ruse.

“I can’t go undercover if I’m pregnant. I won’t. So… not yet, okay?”

He pulled her in close, pressing kisses into the crown of her head.

She was right there in his arms, and he was already missing her.

***

Her longest assignment wasn’t even planned.

It was another of her ‘two-to-three week’ stints, and (as always) he was willing to believe the lie.

He should have sounded the alarm.

Going into month four, she was no nearer to upending the operation, and she was contacting Nyla less and less often. They were clear on their objectives, and she’d unearthed the names of most of the main players, but as she wove herself in closer to the command structure, the more time they gave it, the better the opportunity for a takedown grew.

All the same, he could see that it made Angela uneasy.

Nyla was better at disguising it, but she’d chewed through every pen on her desk at that point, and Officer Francis in Stationery Supplies refused to give her any more.

He’d only met with Lucy three times - barely even once a month.

It would start with a hug, him trying to see through her eyes, into her soul, to check that she was still the same. She was usually more physical, latching herself onto him and pulling at his clothes until he gave in and let her have what she wanted.

It seemed like them, as they lay there afterwards. It was their skin, their sweat, their smell… But it felt like they were only playing a part. She was sweet and gentle, smiling up at him and brushing her fingers along his neck and collar bones. He was calm and steady, relaying innocuous news about the children they knew, or Kojo’s new buddies at the dog park.

He wanted to stop her, wade in and beg her to drop out. Ask her to come back with him and leave this life behind. Run, run away, far away, before it was too late.

The only thing that stopped was her steady reassurance.

“I’ve got this, Tim. You know I do. You trained me.”

He laughed at that. He’d given her a real-life interpretation of the rule book, backed her up the first times she ever encountered basic situations.

This? This skillset she’d developed and become discreetly famous for?

This was all her.

She was more talented than anyone he’d ever known.

So he trusted her.

And he let her go at the end of each of their nights together.

***

The showdown came almost unexpectedly.

Lucy barely had time to forewarn Harper and Lopez, and suddenly he was on the response team coordinating with Patrol and SWAT and Metro. Even Garza and his people from the FBI dropped in, lured by the promise of a tri-state takedown.

One week after her warning, they descended on the warehouses. Armoured vehicles and helicopters, sirens and bullhorns and ambulances all converging in the same square mile.

He hadn’t seen her for over a month at that stage. Six months - plus - undercover.

Nyla intervened to arrest her when he stalled. Lucy had emerged from the warehouse like a wraith, dirty, with her clothes torn and her shoes scuffed. There were bags under her eyes and she’d gotten thin - thin to the point of boniness. Her face was drawn, and there was no recognition in her eyes.

Harper packed her into a shop and drove them straight to St Stephens.

He’d stayed with Grey and Carradine, mentally reeling and allowing the other two men to issue the orders. Grey could see right through him, and Carradine knew enough to give him space. Gil had eventually returned from the warehouse and, on seeing Tim, offered to take command of the Metro unit. Grey had agreed with the idea, and shuffled Tim over to Nolan, ordering him to drive straight to the hospital.

Incredibly, Nolan was silent, offering only one small encouragement before he put the shop in drive.

“She’s still Lucy. She’s still our Lucy.”

It may have been as much for his own benefit as Tim’s, but Tim clung to it, repeating it over and over again, mantra-like, in his head as they neared the hospital.

She’s still Lucy.

***

Nyla met them at the hospital doors.

“She’s dehydrated and exhausted. Definitely malnourished. They’ve got her on an I/V and bloodwork report is underway.” She held out a hand to stop him, her fingers firm against his chest. “Be careful with her, Tim.”

He tiptoed up to her room, hovering in the shadows beyond the window in her door before he entered. She was framed in the glass, portrait-mode, surrounded by wires and tubes. They’d changed her into a hospital gown, and it drowned her, the fabric pooling in deep folds around her tiny body. Her skin was still dirty, her eyes glazed and far away.

Even her fingers were still, sitting in her lap like wilted flowers.

He knocked softly, pushing the door open and meeting her eyes as she looked up at him.

His words lodged in his throat at her expressionless gaze, and he nearly stumbled as he forced himself to walk to her bedside. Her eyes were dry, but he could feel his own welling up, and he turned to look for a chair, clearing his throat and giving himself a moment to swallow the tears.

“Tim.”

He almost tripped again, turning and falling back into the chair in his hurry to respond to her. She unfolded one small hand, holding it palm-up on the bedspread for him to take. He did so without looking, wrapping it in both of his and drawing it up to his lips.

“I don’t want to do it any more. UC. I’m out. I’m done.”

He tightened his grip on her hand, the tears returning and falling on their joined fingers as he nodded, slowly at first, and then more emphatically, his tears tracing streaky paths along the dirt worn into her knuckles.

***

It had taken much longer for her to come back to herself this time.

Her psychologist praised her, and he knew in his heart that her methods were good, but she’d still get that faraway look that frightened him sometimes, zoning off in the middle of a movie, or when they went on walks around the neighbourhood with Kojo.

Being active drew her back into herself. Taking sunset hikes, camping beside running water, even the rhumba class that Tamara had signed them up for at the community centre.

Carradine signed her off as ‘fit for duty’ within a few weeks.

Harper and Lopez were diligent, assigning her to cases that had nothing even remotely to do with her UC stint, and ensuring that one or other of them was always with her in her first few months back. Nolan and Thorsen played their usual selves, laid back and calm, throwing around silly jokes that soon got her laughing again.

Genny took her out almost every week. She didn’t know the details of the case, but she’d missed her confidant, so it was good for both of them to have some non-cop heart-to-hearts.

And Tim was always there.

Beside her, or in the next room, or at the other end of the phone.

She slowly got used to talking to him again. Started dropping tidbits from her op when they were alone together. Phoned him up when her breath started to get shallow. Dug her nails into his muscles and tried to crawl into his flesh at night.

After the first month back, her nightmares got bad.

The psychologist said it was a good sign; that she was comfortable enough to switch off completely in her sleep and work through the issues haunting her subconscious.

Soon, he was the one with bags under his eyes.

He’d wake up, her fingers scrabbling at his chest or his face, her breath hitching in panicked sobs, and he couldn’t tell if she was back in the barrel or undercover, but he’d soothe her, smoothing her hair away from her face and talking to her in a low murmur until she either woke up, or gasped and settled back into sleep.

The times she woke, the look in her eyes scared him. Far away and lost; a frightened creature rather than his Lucy.

Once she knew him again, she’d crawl into his chest, tap tap tapping at his heart to make sure it was real, and he’d keep rubbing her back and whispering in her ear until her breathing steadied and she’d fallen into slumber again.

Slowly, she changed.

Her laugh came easier, her eyes grew brighter, and her cheeks filled out into the smiling dimples he’d missed so much.

She grew more affectionate, reaching for his hand, or bumping him with her shoulder when they were out together. More like her old self.

One day he caught her humming in the kitchen, dusting off the glasses on the high shelf. She’d decided to have a party and invite their friends, and he was willing to do anything - anything she asked. Even suffer an evening of Nolan and Bailey yammering on endlessly about their honeymoon.

It all went surprisingly smoothly, only one averted panic attack in the bedroom, which Harper and Lopez easily covered for.

After that, it was like she’d broken the ice, and she started doing the things she loved once more: going for coffees with the rookies at the station (“Everyone needs a mentor, Tim!”) or signing them both up for yoga retreats at the weekends (“We need a detox from tacos, come on!”).

Soon she started broaching narcotics cases again, dipping her toes into cartel infiltration from the safer side of the desk. Her therapist was on call, but she found she was able to take it, handing over to Harper only once or twice when the memories bubbled too close to the surface.

Within the year, he felt like she was truly back to herself. A little layer of darkness, ringed into the story of her life like circles on a tree, but she’d survived and grown, and so had he, tangling the branches of his life ever closer with hers.

One morning, with Kojo still at Genny’s, he took her for a hike. She muttered and complained - too dark, too early, too far away - but she dressed in her hiking gear and knotted her hair into a bun on the top of her head, following him out to the truck with her backpack and dozing in the passenger’s seat while he drove.

Runyon Canyon wasn’t far, but in the early morning darkness it seemed more ominous than he’d have liked. She didn’t complain however, realising his plan was to arrive at the overlook by sunrise, and he rattled his backpack at her with a smile, indicating that breakfast was inside once they stopped.

It was a climb they’d done often before, and she held his hand for most of it, only letting go when the trail became too narrow and they had to take turns leading or following.

The view at the top was spectacular.

They arrived just as the sun was spreading its rays across the city, golden tendrils reaching through the sandy dunes of the mountains to their left, through the concrete spread of the city and all the way out to the sparkling ocean glinting on the horizon. She shaded her eyes and gazed out, enraptured.

“Wow.”

It took her a moment to realise he wasn’t beside her, and when she turned around, she almost tripped over a root below her feet, her breath leaving her in a gasp when she saw him kneeling with the ring.

He rose to catch her, drawing her onto steadier ground and laughing self-consciously at his own embarrassment.

“It doesn’t mean we have to get married. We can decide all of that later.” He still held the small jewellery box between them, and she took it from him, her bun tickling his nose as she gazed down at it. “I just want you to know… I choose you. Every time. Over and over. Always.”

She flicked her eyes up to him, settling her hips into the circle of his hands.

“You do?”

“I do.” He kissed her. “If you’ll have me.”

She tugged the ring out, dropping the box into the large pockets of his shorts, and testing it against the tip of her ring finger.

“Let me.” He took her hand in his, reaching for the ring before she pulled it back abruptly.

“No, Tim. I have to say something first.”

He swallowed, not trusting his voice and nodding at her instead.

“I… I love you,” she said, pulling his knuckles to her lips and kissing them, fixing him in place with a steady gaze. “You don’t have to do this just because you feel some obligation, or you’re worried I’ll disappear into UC again.”

He shook his head, but she was still talking and he closed his mouth quickly.

“I got what I wanted from that life. I excelled at it. But it’s not going to define me. I still want you; you, and me, and the future we talked about together.” Her eyes got shy and she bit her lip, and he bumped his nose against hers to get her to continue. “But I want that whether we’re married or not; with or without a ring. As long as I’ve got you.”

And he couldn’t resist kissing her again, the sun rising up the mountain and setting off flashes of fireworks behind his closed eyes. She was warm in his arms, and soft, and dappled with the golden dust of the desert.

“You’ve always got me.”

She grinned at him then, her nose scrunching up in excitement as she handed him back the ring, and he couldn’t help but copy her, his cheeks aching with the force of his smile.

It fit her finger perfectly, an equal partner to her moonstone ring.

As they ate their breakfast in the warming light of morning, she held her hand up to the sunshine, leaning into his shoulder and letting the glinting stones spread shards of light across their faces.

Right now he felt bliss, and he knew she did too.

But he didn’t want ‘bliss’ forever.

He wanted her.

Him and her.

Them.

With all their fights and lies and secrets. With all their jokes and pranks and laughter.

The good and the bad. The dark times and the light. Their past and their present and their future.

He wanted all of it, and he knew she did too.

All of it.

Always.

#chenfordweek23 #chenford fic #chenford #my fic

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