What if Tim and Lucy both had kids

Part 9

(TW: miscarriage, loss)

Tim returned with their drinks, handing Lucy her tea with a gentle smile.
Tim- Here you go.
He said, keeping his tone light.
Lucy- Thanks. 
Lucy replied, her voice still soft. She took the cup, feeling a bit more settled but still carrying the weight of her emotions.
They made their way back to the police car, the atmosphere calm but tinged with the unspoken tension between them. As they got in and started driving, the silence in the car grew, filling the space with an almost palpable weight.
Tim glanced over at Lucy every so often, noticing how quiet she was. He could tell she was still struggling, and it gnawed at him not to do something to help. After a few minutes of driving, he finally spoke up again.
Tim- Luce?
His voice was gentle, filled with concern.
Lucy turned her head to look at him, and he immediately noticed the tears welling up in her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back, but it was clear she was on the verge of breaking down.
Tim- Are you okay?
Tim asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter whatever fragile hold she had on her emotions.
Lucy- I'm fine. 
Lucy said quickly, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her. She could see Tim wasn't buying it, and she knew he wasn't just going to drop it.
Tim kept his eyes on the road, but his attention was fully on her.
Tim- Lucy.
He said, his tone firmer but still kind.
Tim- You don't have to pretend with me. If something's wrong, you can tell me.
Lucy shook her head, her voice cracking as she spoke.
Lucy- Tim..., if...i-if I start talking about it, I'm going to start crying, I'll also be sobbing the rest of the day, and I just... I-I can't do that right now.
Tim didn't push further. He knew how hard it was for Lucy to be vulnerable, especially in a work setting. But he also knew she needed to know she wasn't alone.
Without saying another word, Tim pulled over, called in that they're unavailable, reached over and switched off the dashboard cameras, then reached up to turn off his body cam. He leaned over and gently turned off Lucy's body cam as well. The gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes.
With the cameras off, he turned back to her.
Tim- Lucy, it's just you and me now. No one else and we are going back to the station either way. Are you okay?
The kindness in his voice, the understanding in his eyes—it was too much. Lucy felt the dam inside her breaking, but she took a deep breath, trying to hold it together for just a little longer.
The tears she'd been holding back finally spilled over.
Lucy- No. 
She finally admitted, her voice barely a whisper.
Lucy- I'm not okay.
The weight of everything she had been carrying—the pain, the grief, the exhaustion—finally broke through, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.
Tim didn't hesitate. He reached over the middle console, pulling her into a gentle embrace. He didn't say anything; he just held her, his arms providing the comfort she so desperately needed. Lucy collapsed into him, her body trembling as the sobs she'd been holding back for so long finally erupted.
For a few moments, the only sounds in the car were Lucy's quiet sobs and the soft hum of the engine. Tim kept one arm around her, his other hand lightly stroking her back in a soothing rhythm. He knew there was nothing he could say to make things better, so he simply let her cry, offering his silent support.
Lucy buried her face in his shoulder, her tears soaking into his uniform, but Tim didn't mind. He was focused entirely on her, on being there for her in this moment when she needed someone the most.
As the minutes passed and Lucy's sobs softened into quiet sniffles, Tim continued to hold her, offering the warmth and stability she needed to find her center again. The silence between them felt heavy, but it was also comforting, a space where Lucy could let her guard down without fear of judgment.
Finally, Tim spoke, his voice low and gentle, careful not to disrupt the fragile peace they'd found.
Tim- Do you want to talk about it?
Lucy pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and exhaustion. She swallowed, her throat still tight from crying, and shook her head weakly.
Lucy- I... I don't know, Tim. I really don't.
She took a shaky breath, trying to find the words, but it felt impossible to articulate the overwhelming weight of everything she'd been carrying. It wasn't just one thing—it was everything, all piling up until she could barely breathe.
Tim saw the struggle in her eyes, the way she seemed to be fighting an internal battle just to keep herself from crumbling again. He gave her a small, encouraging nod, his voice soft but steady.
Tim- That's okay. You don't have to have all the answers right now. But maybe... maybe we can start with just one thing? Something that's been weighing on you the most?
Lucy hesitated, the idea of trying to pinpoint one thing almost laughable in the face of everything she was dealing with. But Tim's calm, patient demeanor made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could try.
Lucy- It's just... everything, Tim.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, the words heavy with the burden she had been carrying alone.
Lucy- I feel like I'm drowning, and I don't know how to make it stop. Work, Theo, his dad, the memories...Theo, he was only nine years old when it happened... and it's like no matter what I do, I can't escape it. And it just keeps piling up until I feel like I'm going to break.
Tim listened intently, his heart aching for her as she finally let out the thoughts that had been suffocating her. He knew this wasn't easy for Lucy—she was always so strong, so independent—but everyone had their breaking point.
Tim- It sounds like you've been holding all of this in for a long time, Luce.
He kept his voice soft, careful not to overwhelm her now that she was opening up.
Tim- I can't pretend to know what it's like to go through what you've been through, but I do know that you don't have to carry all of this by yourself. You've got people who care about you. I care about you.
Lucy's eyes welled up again, but this time, the tears were different—less about the pain and more about the overwhelming relief of finally being heard, of knowing she didn't have to face this alone.
Lucy- I'm scared to let anyone in, Tim. Scared that if I do, they'll see how messed up I really am. But... I don't can't keep doing this.
Tim reached out, gently taking her hand in his.
Tim- You're not messed up, Lucy. You're human. And it's okay to lean on others when things get tough. You've been there for me, and I want to be there for you, too.
Tim could feel Lucy's hand trembling in his as he held it, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air. She was opening up to him in a way she never had before, and he knew he had to tread carefully, offering her the space and support she needed to share something so deeply painful.
Tim- Lucy, what happened when Theo was nine?
Lucy hesitated, her breath hitching as she tried to steady herself. The memories were still so raw, even after all these years, and she had buried them so deep, trying to shield herself and Theo from the pain. But now, with Tim sitting beside her, his presence warm and reassuring, she felt a glimmer of strength to finally let it out.
Lucy- He... He wasn't nine yet. He was eight, just one week shy of his birthday. We were planning to go to Disneyland. Theo was so excited... and so was I.
Her voice wavered, and Tim could hear the sorrow laced in her words, the loss of something that should have been a joyous memory.
Lucy- I was going to tell my husband that evening that I was pregnant again. We were so happy, Tim. Everything was planned, everything was perfect. But... he never came home.
Her words broke, and Tim squeezed her hand gently, his heart aching for her. Lucy took a shuddering breath, her voice barely above a whisper as she continued.
Lucy- Instead, I got a call from the hospital. A drunk driver had caused an accident... Theo's dad was... he was brain-dead. They said there was nothing they could do.
Tim's eyes widened slightly in shock. He had always assumed Theo's father had just walked out on them, not something this tragic. He felt a deep pang of guilt for the assumptions he had made, but he didn't let it show. Right now, it was about Lucy and what she needed.
Lucy- The doctors told me I had to make a decision... to either leave him on life support or... or let him go.
Her voice cracked, and Tim could feel her hand tighten around his as if she were holding onto him for dear life.
Lucy- It was the worst decision I ever had to make. But... in the end, I knew he wouldn't want to be like that. So... I let him go.
Her tears were flowing freely now. He didn't speak, knowing that words wouldn't be enough to ease her pain. Instead, he simply let her continue, offering his silent support.
Lucy- At least... at least he saved three lives. His organs... they were able to help others. But I never got to tell him... that I was pregnant.
The words came out as a choked sob, and Tim felt his own heart break for her. He could barely imagine the pain she must have gone through, and it was clear this was a wound that had never fully healed.
Lucy- The stress... the grief... I lost the baby, too. I lost the last piece of him, Tim. Exactly fife years ago.
Tim pulled her into his arms again, holding her tightly as her sobs grew louder, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. He didn't say anything, didn't try to offer any platitudes, because he knew there was nothing that could make this right. All he could do was be there for her, to let her know she wasn't alone in her grief.
Tim- I'm so sorry, Lucy.
His voice was thick with emotion, and he held her even tighter, as if he could somehow take some of the pain away just by being there.
Lucy- I've carried this for so long, Tim. I've tried to be strong for Theo, but it's been so hard. I can't do it anymore, Tim. I just... can't.
Tim held Lucy tightly as she broke down, her sobs echoing in the quiet car. Her words—I can't do it anymore, Tim. I just... can't—rang in his ears, and he felt her desperation, her exhaustion, like a tangible weight pressing down on them both. He knew Lucy was strong, but even the strongest people needed someone to lean on, and in this moment, he was determined to be that person for her.
They stayed like that for a while longer, his arms wrapped around her protectively, and Lucy curled into his chest, her breathing slowly evening out as the intensity of her emotions began to subside. Tim didn't rush her; he just held her, letting her find whatever solace she could in the comfort of his embrace.
When Lucy finally calmed enough that her sobs turned to occasional sniffles, Tim gently loosened his hold, leaning back just enough to see her face. She looked drained, emotionally and physically, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her expression hollow. It was like she had given everything she had left in her, and now there was nothing but emptiness.
Tim knew they couldn't stay here forever, but he also knew Lucy needed a safe place to retreat to, where she could process everything without the weight of the job or the eyes of their colleagues on her. Making a quick decision, Tim started the engine and drove them back to the station, keeping one hand on Lucy's, squeezing it gently every now and then to remind her that he was still there.
When they arrived at the station, Tim parked in a spot that was as discreet as possible and carefully escorted Lucy inside. She was quiet, almost eerily so, her earlier outpouring of emotion leaving her in a state of numbness. Tim didn't say much either, knowing she needed this time to just exist without the pressure of conversation or expectations.
He led her to his office, making sure they avoided anyone else. Once they were inside, Tim guided Lucy to a chair and made sure she was comfortable before stepping out. He found Sergeant Grey, explaining that they both needed the rest of the day off—without going into the details. Grey, seeing the seriousness in Tim's expression, didn't ask questions and gave them the green light.
Next, Tim snuck into the women's locker room (there was no one). He grabbed Lucy's bag, her personal belongings, and anything she'd need to change out of her uniform. With her things in hand, he returned to his office, where Lucy still sat in the same spot, staring blankly ahead.
Tim placed her bag beside her chair.
Tim- You can change in here, Lucy. Take your time.
She nodded mechanically, her movements slow and deliberate as she reached for the bag. Tim gave her one last reassuring look before slipping out to the men's locker room to change himself. Once he was done, he got Lucy's things and made a quick stop back at the women's locker room to put Lucy's uniform and duty belt away, making sure everything was in its place.
There was a hint of gratitude in her eyes as she glanced at him. Without saying a word, Tim helped her to her feet, and together, they made their way out of the station. He was careful to avoid any potential encounters with their colleagues, ensuring Lucy wouldn't have to face anyone in her current state.
Finally, they reached his car, and Tim opened the passenger door for her. She slid in silently, and he closed the door behind her before getting in on the driver's side. The drive to her house was quiet, the atmosphere heavy with everything that had transpired. Lucy stared out the window, her thoughts a million miles away, and Tim respected her silence, knowing she needed this time to process.
When they arrived at her house, Tim parked the car and turned off the engine. For a moment, neither of them moved. Lucy's eyes were fixed on her front door, as if gathering the strength to face the emptiness inside. Tim reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her.
Tim- I'm here, Lucy. You don't have to do this alone.
Lucy turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, but she nodded. Together, they got out of the car, and Tim walked her to the door. She unlocked it and stepped inside, the familiar surroundings offering little comfort.
Tim hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to intrude but also unwilling to leave her in this fragile state.
Lucy- Tim... will you stay? Just for a little while?
Her voice was small, almost childlike, and it broke something in Tim's heart. He nodded without hesitation.
Tim- Of course, I'll stay as long as you need.
They entered the house together, and Tim closed the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. Lucy led him to the living room, where she sank onto the couch, looking completely drained. Tim sat beside her, close enough that she could lean on him if she needed to, but giving her the space to decide.
Lucy didn't speak, and Tim didn't push her. They sat in the quiet of her living room, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. Slowly, Lucy leaned against Tim, and he wrapped an arm around her, offering the silent support she needed.
And there they stayed, the weight of the day pressing down on them, but in that shared silence, Lucy knew she wasn't alone. For the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to lean on someone else, trusting that Tim would be there to catch her if she fell.
As Tim sat on the couch, holding Lucy close, his mind kept drifting back to what she had told him earlier. The weight of her story—the tragedy, the loss, the unimaginable pain—settled heavily on his heart. He couldn't shake the guilt he felt for ever having assumed that Theo's father had just walked out on them. The truth was so much more heartbreaking than he could have ever imagined.
He held Lucy a little tighter, his arm securely wrapped around her as she leaned against him. She was so strong, so resilient, but Tim knew that even the strongest people could break under the right pressure. The fact that Lucy had been carrying this weight alone for so long made him feel a deep sadness, not just for her loss, but for the fact that she hadn't felt she could share this with anyone before now.
As they sat in the quiet of her living room, the only sounds were the ticking of the clock and their breathing, steady but heavy with unspoken emotion. Lucy's head rested against Tim's shoulder, and he could feel the slow rise and fall of her chest, the lingering tremors of her earlier sobs still present in her body.
After a long stretch of silence, Lucy spoke again, her voice soft and filled with a sorrow that cut through the stillness like a knife.
Lucy- I would have had a four and a half year old daughter today.
Her words were so quiet that Tim almost missed them, but the weight of what she said hit him hard. He didn't move, didn't say anything, just listened as she continued.
Lucy- She'd be running around the house, fighting with Theo, throwing fits over the most banal things just like Theo when he was little... maybe she'd have painted the walls, her toys would be laying around and she'd make her brother play tea party with her, paint his nails or whatever. But... I don't. I only have Theo.
The sadness in her voice was palpable, and Tim felt his throat tighten. He could picture it—the little girl that should have been there, filling the house with her energy and laughter, her little tantrums and mischief, the joy she would have brought into Lucy's and Theo's lives. But instead, there was just a void, an absence that would never be filled.
Tim- I'm so sorry, Lucy.
His voice was thick with emotion, and he wished he could do something, anything, to take away the pain she was feeling. But he knew there was nothing he could say or do that would change what had happened.
Lucy- I've tried to move on, Tim. Tried to focus on Theo, to be strong for him. But it's always there, in the back of my mind, this emptiness... this loss that I can't ever get back. And I hate it. I hate that I couldn't protect her, her dad, that I couldn't even protect myself or be there for Theo.
Tim's heart broke at her words, the rawness of her pain cutting deep. He could feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, but he blinked them back, knowing he needed to be strong for her now.
Tim- You didn't do anything wrong, Lucy. You did everything you could. What happened... it wasn't your fault.
Lucy- I know that, logically. But it doesn't change how I feel. I look at Theo, and I'm so grateful for him, but there's always this part of me that's missing. And I'm scared, Tim. Scared that I'll never be whole again.
Tim didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't sure if anyone could ever truly be whole again after going through something like what Lucy had. But he knew one thing for certain: she wasn't alone anymore. He wouldn't let her be.
Tim- You might not feel whole, Lucy, but you're still here. You're still fighting, every day, for Theo, for yourself. And that takes more strength than anyone can imagine. You're not alone in this anymore, okay? I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.
Lucy didn't respond immediately, but she leaned into him a little more, her hand resting on his shoulder. Tim held her close, letting the silence envelop them once more. In that moment, he made a silent vow to himself: he would be there for her, whatever it took. He wouldn't let her carry this burden alone anymore.
And as they sat together, the weight of the day still pressing down on them, Tim hoped that, in some small way, he was helping to ease just a little of the pain that Lucy had been carrying for so long.