Want You to Stay || Chenford / The Rookie

Part 24

It's nine o'clock at night a few days later when he calls. She answers almost immediately, "Tim? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He clears his throat, "You, ah, said I should call. So I'm calling." He thinks back on their last conversation, suddenly feeling strangely unsure of himself. He'd waited for her outside of the locker room after their little impromptu slapstick comedy routine in the interrogation room. Her eyes had lit up and she'd fallen into step beside him as they walked to the garage. They'd lingered for far too long by Lucy's car, sharing pointless details about their days before Lucy had shyly suggested that he could call her, if he wanted.

Lucy doesn't say anything for a moment. Then she lets out a soft laugh. "You're right, I did say that. I just didn't realize you'd take it so... literally. Anyway, nevermind ... it's probably just one of those generational differences or something..."

Tim rolls his eyes, "God, Lucy, you're making it sound like I could be your grandpa."

"Well you are pretty grumpy..."

"Hmmphh... if you think I'm such a grumpy old man, then why'd you ask me to call?" he grumbles, mock offense coloring his tone.

"Oh I don't think you're a grumpy old man, Tim," she pauses, the teasing lilt in her voice teeing up the punchline he knows is coming. "I think you're a very handsome boy."

Tim chuckles at his own words thrown back at him, and he can hear Lucy smirking on the other end of the line, clearly enjoying the victory of making him laugh.

"How are things going with Webb?" Lucy asks after a moment.

"Not bad actually. No cat personalities this time, anyway," Tim answers pointedly.

Lucy laughs, "I don't know what you're talking about, sir." She pauses and the teasing sarcasm is gone from her tone when she ventures with less certainty, "Is he... better than your last aide?"

And something about the vulnerability in her voice sends a pang of heat right through Tim's center. His voice is husky when he finally answers, "No one could ever hold a candle to you, Lucy."

Lucy releases a pleased little sigh. It's the best sound Tim has heard in months.

***

"I called my old therapist."

They're on the phone again after a long shift; they've been on the phone a lot over the past few weeks.

"You did?" Tim slides open the door to his backyard to let Kojo back inside. The dog's front paws are covered in dirt again — Tim makes a mental note that in the morning he should check what the adorable idiot has been digging up this time.

"Yeah," Lucy replies. She sounds as tired as he feels after the long day. "I don't know why I didn't call her right after Jackson died. I did go to a bereavement counselor, and I guess I thought that I'd done what I was supposed to do and it was time to move on. But now, looking back, I think... I think the idea of talking to someone who really knew me, what I'd gone through, and what Jackson meant to me. It was just — it felt too real."

Tim nods along with her as she speaks, recollecting the string of therapies she rattled off as evidence that she was doing just fine to anyone that asked when she returned to work after Caleb. His throat tightens and he swallows an unexpected wave of emotion before he responds, "That makes complete sense to me, Lucy. You're strong and resilient as hell, and probably too smart for your own good when it comes to all of the tools and techniques for working through stuff like this, but I don't think anybody could have had the year you had without — I just mean that you coped the best way you knew how; there's nothing wrong with that."

Lucy laughs, "Of course, leave it to me to cope by being even more positive."

Tim chuckles, "Trust me when I say there are far worse ways to cope. And I, for one, find your unrelenting positivity —"

"Deeply irritating?"

"Well – yes. But I was going to say... inspiring," he says, dropping down to open a kitchen cabinet and pull out Kojo's food.

"Awww, Tim. I think that might be the nicest thing you've —"

"Don't push it, Lucy."

She laughs, "Okay, okay. But yeah... I think deep down I knew I wasn't really okay. But it's weird how we sometimes fight the things we need the most, you know?" She says it in an off-handed kind of way, like she's just mulling an academically interesting facet of human psychology. But something about her words hits Tim unexpectedly. He pauses, a scoop of kibble suspended in his hand as he thinks about it.

"Maybe you could give me her contact info," he murmurs after a moment, his voice a little stilted.

Lucy doesn't say anything for a second, but Tim swears he can hear the gears turning in her mind through the phone. "I remember you telling Genny you weren't interested in therapy," she finally says, but there's no judgment in her voice.

"I wasn't interested in Genny telling me to go to therapy," he scoffs softly. "But I've been before. For a bit when I left the army, and then to that person the department makes you talk to after you get injured before you can go back out on duty. But it's, ah, it's been awhile..."

Tim bends down to drop the food into Kojo's bowl as Lucy lets out a soft hum in response to his words. He wonders why he doesn't feel more vulnerable talking about all of this — admitting that he probably needs some help too. But he knows it's because it's Lucy on the other end of the line.

"I'll get you a referral," she says after a moment, her voice laced with a mixture of pride and affection that gives life to a warmth spreading in his chest. "You won't like my girl, she's too woo woo."

He smirks. "Woo woo?"

"She's great," Lucy clarifies quickly. "It's just...she's got crystals on her desk."

"Say no more," Tim groans, and he loves the way it makes Lucy giggle across the line. "But yeah, I would really appreciate that," he adds more seriously.

"I'm proud of us," Lucy says softly. There's so much sincerity in her voice that Tim can't help wondering — for the millionth time — how he got so lucky to have her in his life. He's on the verge of saying exactly that, but something stops him. It's only been a couple of weeks since his dad died. This — this talking and making her laugh and figuring out how they fit together without all the drama — this is good for right now. He doesn't want to screw this up.

"If you thought the old Tim Bradford was great, just wait until you get to know the new and improved, emotionally mature Tim Bradford," he jokes instead.

Lucy laughs, but Tim can tell it's her you're an idiot laugh. "I like the old Tim Bradford just fine, for the record."