Want You to Stay || Chenford / The Rookie

Part 10

It's a few weeks later while they are parked on the side of the road, watching for traffic stops, when Tim asks her that same dreaded question again.

He hasn't asked about Chris since Lucy mentioned their first date, and Lucy hasn't volunteered any information either.

But she doesn't hesitate this time, "Tonight? Chris and I are having dinner with my parents."

Tim jerks his head toward her in surprise, "This is the same guy your mom...?"

Lucy nods, feeling suddenly shy about the whole topic of conversation.

She finds her eyes traveling to Tim's Adam's apple as he swallows, clearly struggling with how to respond, "Sounds like it's going pretty well then, I guess?"

Lucy nods, unsure of why she isn't sharing more. Why she doesn't want Tim to know that it's going more than well. Why telling Tim she is happy with Chris feels like a betrayal even when it seems pretty clear he is more than happy with Ashley. "It is," is all she finally offers.

He simply nods and when his eyes meet hers, Lucy finds herself longing for the days when she could tell exactly what he was thinking with just a single glance.

Her relief is immense when the call for backup comes in. Harper and Thorsen are just a few blocks away pursuing a pair of armed attempted robbery suspects on foot. The suspects are splitting up just as they arrive on scene, one scaling a fence and the other taking off down a narrow alleyway.

Lucy shouts to Nyla through the window that they will cover the suspect heading down the alley as Tim throws the shop into park. They scramble out of the SUV, moving quickly to make up lost ground, but the alleged perpetrator is already out of sight by the time they make it through to the other side of the alley. They glance toward each other and then survey the area in every direction as they try to make sense of where the suspect may have gone.

They don't see it coming, neither expecting their runner would lie in wait instead of making the obvious choice to use his lead to his advantage and make a clean getaway.

There's a gunshot and then the force of the bullet is sending Tim backward through the air. And then, just as quickly, he is motionless, lying flat on his back.

Lucy returns fire automatically, nailing the suspect in the leg. She easily determines the wound is superficial as she radios for backup and medical assistance, then secures him at the speed of light and scrambles to get back to Tim.

"Tim?" the voice doesn't even sound like her own. She ignores the fact that her fingers are trembling so badly that it's taking twice as long as it should as she fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. There isn't any blood that she can see, and she is praying, praying that — she exhales the breath she didn't even realize she was holding as she catches the shiny glint of the bullet. It's buried in the center of his vest, and Lucy confirms that it didn't break through.

"Tim?" she repeats again softly, this time lifting her hand to his cheek, mindlessly noticing the scratch of early stubble against her fingertips even though it's just barely past midday.

Relief floods her entire body when his eyes blink open and he moves to sit up, quickly shifting her grip to his bicep to support him on his way up.

He rubs the back of his head as he takes in the concern on her face, "Did I just get shot?"

Lucy nods, and her fingers tighten around his arm despite the fact that he is sitting upright on his own now, unwilling to let go of the reassurance the warmth of his skin against her own is providing. "Vest caught it, but you were airborne for a second there. We should get you checked out."

Tim is already shaking his head. "I'm fine," he insists, despite the wince that mars his features as he lifts his hand to his chest.

"Tim," Lucy starts to warn, but then her radio crackles to life and she is momentarily distracted by coordinating the transport of the trigger-happy suspect to the hospital.

They are back outside of their shop when Lucy finally turns her attention back to Tim, who, to no one's surprise, is back on his feet and acting like it's just a normal Tuesday.

"If you're not going to go to the hospital to get checked out, then at least let me take a look at it," Lucy insists, already releasing the trunk so that she can retrieve their first aid kit.

He grumbles something about insubordination under his breath, but doesn't resist when she places her hands on his shoulders and pushes him into a seated position on the edge of the hatch.

"Tim —" Lucy prompts when he doesn't make a move to remove his shirt or vest so she can actually examine the damage.

"I'm fine, Lucy."

"Take it off, or I'll take it off for you." She flushes as soon as the words are out of her mouth, images of her doing just that flooding her memory. Fingers grazing over the well-defined planes of his stomach as she had worked the fabric of his grey T-shirt up and over his chest. His hands pushing hers out of the way so he could take over and yank it up over his head, clearly impatient to get his hands back on her, to feel her against him, skin to skin.

His eyes meet hers and he swallows, and she somehow definitively knows he is thinking of the exact same moment, now weeks ago but so vivid in her mind that it could have been just yesterday.

He doesn't argue this time, first undoing the remaining buttons on his overshirt before shrugging it off, and then reaching to unstrap his vest. Lucy busies herself with digging the portable instant ice pack out of the first aid kit. She pointedly averts her gaze as he undresses until she sees him pause out of the corner of her eye, hears the brief grunt of pain that escapes him as he attempts to lift his undershirt.

She hurries to stop him, hands clamping over his forearms. "I'll do it," she offers softly.

He stiffens briefly under her grip, but then nods, relaxing only slightly as his eyes lock on hers.

Lucy bites her lip, hopes desperately that her cheeks aren't as on fire as they feel as she grasps the hem of the undershirt and gently begins to pull it upward.

And though she fully intends to keep her eyes on his, she can't stop them from dropping, following the motion of her hands, drinking in every bit of the exposed skin until the angry red welt on his chest is fully revealed.

It hits her then how lucky he was, how critical and life-threatening the injury would have been if not for his vest.

Her voice is thick when she finally speaks, "Can you hold this for a second?"

She nods to where she has the fabric of his shirt pinned up against his shoulder. She quickly reaches to grab and activate the ice pack, not realizing how badly her hands are shaking again as she moves to press the pack to his skin until his hand is covering hers, steadying it, trapping both her hand and the ice pack against his heart.

Their eyes meet again and Lucy feels suddenly, inexplicably on the brink of tears as she gazes at him, overcome by the emotion she feels toward this wonderful, beautiful, aggravating man that has come to mean so damn much to her.

He's looking back at her in that way of his that makes her feel like he can see right through her. "Is it — is it serious?" he finally asks, his voice uncharacteristically soft and uncertain.

She laughs, grateful for the distraction from her thoughts, "I mean, it's going to be one hell of a bruise, but I think you'll survive."

His expression softens as he rolls his eyes, "No. I meant — things with that guy — Chris? Is it serious?"

Lucy's throat tightens again as her eyes meet his, not prepared for how hard it is to answer his question truthfully when he is looking at her like this, with such a rare and earnest vulnerability. But she owes him the truth. She owes Chris and herself the truth, doesn't she? "I — uh. Yeah. I-I think it could be."

"That's — uh — that's great Lucy. I'm really happy for you."

Lucy nods, trying not to read anything into the fact that he isn't meeting her eyes anymore. Trying not to read anything into the fact that his words of support, which would normally leave her overjoyed, have left her feeling more sad than anything else. "Thanks, Tim. That — it really means a lot, coming from you."