Want You to Stay || Chenford / The Rookie

Part 11

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading and taking the time to leave your thoughts. We love seeing everyone's feedback and reactions!

There's more angst and a bit more idiocy to come, but we promise they will get there. We did want to give the heads up that things will be a bit heavy for a bit — we'll continue deal with tough topics like Tim's relationship with his dad, grief, etc. so if that's not for you, or you'd rather wait until the whole story is posted, we totally and completely get it.

We hope you do end up loving the journey if you decide to stick around!

As always, thanks for reading, commenting, and voting ❤️

— Jill & Lana

***

Tim has these recurring dreams. Nightmares, really. The details have evolved over the years, but the essence has always been the same.

When he was a kid, he dreamed he was in a forest. Parched chaparral and cracked earth were all around him on the ground, with steep peaks jutting up on either side. He had a compass in his hand, but the needle was stuck in place. He knew he could use the sun to get his bearings, but somehow there was no sun, only an endless dull gray sky. When he opened his mouth to call out for help, no sound came out. So he walked and walked, his feet aching and his throat tight with anger, but he never made it anywhere.

While he was in Afghanistan, Tim dreamed of being stuck in a sandstorm. The tiny grains whipped at his face, scratching his skin and stinging his eyes. He radioed for the members of his squadron — repeated their names over and over again, one by one — but the only reply he ever got back was tinny static.

When Isabel was gone for all those months, he dreamed of wandering the streets of L.A., his boots strangely noiseless on the pavement as he walked. He would always get this feeling, as he approached an intersection, that the thing he was looking for was close — hiding right there, just out of sight. And then he would turn the corner and see nothing but another stretch of stucco strip malls.

And lately — ever since that night three months ago — Tim dreams that he's roaming through hallways with dull lighting and awful yellow-tan wallpaper. Like his childhood home and the hospice have melded together into one. This time, he can't pinpoint exactly what he is looking for. The hallway is endless, every bend bringing a new stretch that never takes him anywhere.

And sometimes...sometimes the dream is a little bit different. Sometimes he's not alone. Lucy is silently walking alongside him. Tim tries to turn and look at her, but his neck and shoulders and torso are frozen forward. She's just barely in his periphery. With him, but not. His whole body burns with frustration as he tries, yet again, to turn toward her —

He awakens with a start, his muscles tight and his heart pounding.

"Tim? Are you okay?" Ashley murmurs from her place in the bed next to him. She's still half-asleep, but his rattled wake-up must have roused her from her own slumber. She slides closer to him and lays a hand on his chest, her eyes still closed.

Tim glances over at the clock on his bedside table. 5:07am. He scrubs a hand over his face and wonders if she can feel how fast his heart is still beating underneath her palm. "I'm fine, I just can't sleep." He whispers, starting to untangle himself from her gently. He tries to ignore the sleepy grumble she lets out at the loss of his warmth. "I'm going to go take Kojo for a run."

***

When he returns from his run, his mind still distracted but his body mostly free of this morning's unsettled tension, Tim finds Ashley at the stove, awake and dressed for work.

"Hey," she greets him with a bright smile, turning off the stove and coming around the kitchen island to press a kiss against his cheek. "Ew, sweaty," she laughs. Then she bends down to pet Kojo. "It's Wednesday so I made him his ridiculous salmon omelet. It's on the stove."

"It's not ridiculous," Tim insists.

Ashley rolls her eyes and smirks as she looks up at him. "Mmm hmm, you just keep telling yourself that."

He chuckles in spite of himself at her ribbing, feeling the stress of the morning continuing to slowly drain out of him. Who cares about a dream? This right here, this is real. And it's good.

After that day in the escape room, Tim had re-committed himself to Ashley. And he had found that he truly liked being with her. Her easygoing, California-chill vibes meshed well with all of his intensity. He liked the way he felt around her. Comfortable. Content. It was easy and uncomplicated, and he liked having someone to come home with.

And okay, maybe the news that Lucy was also seeing someone had briefly made him feel the slightest bit...off-kilter. Maybe listening to her tell him that it was serious as her fingers pressed against his skin, her touch bringing back memories he had worked so hard to bury, had momentarily stung almost as much as that goddamn bullet. But the feeling had passed.

Things were...fine with them now. Perfectly fine. And if Lucy has found something good with this Chris guy, Tim is happy for her. Really. She deserves easy and uncomplicated, too. She deserves to be with someone who doesn't think twice about being with her.

Tim reaches a hand down to pull Ashley up to her feet and wraps his arms around her.

"You're getting my uniform all sweaty," she giggles, trying to pull away from him as he holds her close.

"Oh, you mean the uniform you jump into the ocean wearing?"

Ashley tips her head back and laughs, wrapping her own arms around his waist even as she maintains her protest. "I don't wear this sweatshirt in the ocean and you know it."

Tim grins devilishly as he captures her lips for a brief kiss. "Fine, I'll go shower," he teases after a moment, pulling back. "So demanding." He releases her from his arms after another quick kiss and starts to head back toward his bedroom.

"I've gotta head in early today, but I'll meet you at the gala tonight?" Ashley calls after him as Tim enters his room.

Ah yes, the True Blue LAPD Gala tonight. It was a yearly fundraising event put on by the Los Angeles Police Foundation that a bunch of officers usually went to. Tim had skipped it in the past, but Grey had strongly implied that his new status as a sergeant meant that he had to attend this year. Almost the entire Mid-Wilshire crew would be there, and it would look bad if he wasn't.

"Yeah, I should be there around seven," he replies, opening one of his bottom dresser drawers to try and dig out the cufflinks and bow tie he last wore at Angela's failed wedding. He doesn't see them, so he opens the other bottom drawer on the left and finds them next to a stack of his workout shorts.

"Tim, one more thing," Ashley says suddenly from the doorway, her bag slung over her shoulder. She looks a little hesitant as she twists her keys in her hands. "If you want to talk — about the dreams you've been having or what's going on with your dad, or anything... I'm here, okay?"

He's taken aback for a moment, but nods as he closes the drawer gently, trying to sort through how to respond. But then she continues.

"I really care about you. I think I'm even — I think I might be falling in love with you, so I just — I hope you can feel like you can talk to me. I hope you want to." Ashley's cheeks flush and she smiles shyly before dropping her gaze, clearly feeling vulnerable after her confession.

Tim freezes, chest tightening as a sudden rush of panic rises in his throat. When he doesn't say anything for a few moments, Ashley looks back up at him, a flicker of apprehension starting to bloom in her eyes. Tim realizes with a start he can't just keep staring at her.

"I — uh — I really care about you too. I just —" The words aren't coming easily, and he's trying to keep his voice steady.

His phone rings suddenly, the sound piercing the strained silence, and Tim is actually ashamed at the relief he feels. "It's Grey. I'm sorry, I have to take this, but can we —"

"Yeah no, of course. You should take it. I'll see you tonight."

Ashley is smiling, but Tim doesn't miss the way she avoids his eyes as she hurries out of the bedroom, shutting the door with a sharp thud.