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vinnys-recordcollection · 23 days ago

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Awful Yesterdays

pairing: tim bradford x swat!fem!reader characters: y/n remingtion (remi), tim bradford, lucy chen, john nolan, angela lopez warnings: language, ptsd, survivors guilt, nightmares, mentions of drugs and drug trafficking (very brief), cop things, mentions of explosions, description of bruises, blood, tim's an ass for a bit, angst with fluff, apologies for the shitty warnings 😅 word count: ~10.9k a/n: requested by nonny -- sent in date: 12/18/2023 summary: after a harsh day on the job and an argument with your fellow sergeant, your injuries and a wicked head cold have you calling into work. tim, having realized how mean and disrespectful he was, comes over to talk it out -- only to find you feeling miserable. he decides to make your lunch while you relax, and in return... he learns the reason you came back to patrol.

“Do you seriously not trust me to know what I can and can’t handle, Bradford?” You shouted to your fellow sergeant, damp hair sticking to your face almost dramatically as the cold rain pelted your hot skin. If you were in a cartoon, steam would be rolling off of you. “I was a damn S.W.A.T sergeant. I can disarm and take down a suspect without a second thought. I can handle myself.”

Tim’s face contorted into his classic snarl, pointing emphatically toward the building you just limped out of. “You call that handling yourself? Seriously? Remington, you took a boot to the face and ribs before you took him down – and God knows how many bruises are underneath your uniform.”

Your chest twinged a little at his words, but you couldn’t tell if it was the implied insult or the cold settling in.

Pushing the held breath out of your nose and holding the cough in, you moved your hair out of your face – smoothing it over your rain-soaked ponytail. “I am not just gonna stand here and let you insult my abilities after I saved your ass today. You don’t have to like me, Tim. But I, at the very least, deserve some fucking respect.”

The other officers, mainly Nolan, Lucy, and Angela, had turned their attention to you and Tim. Seeing two of the biggest and polar opposite personalities argue was amusing – even though they could barely hear it.

“The rain is making this like a romcom. You know, the argument they both have at some point in the movie,” Lucy said, her excited nature pitching her voice up a little. Angela snorted, her arms crossed over her chest, “Except I don’t think they’re gonna make up with a kiss afterwards.”

They watched Tim retort back, his face red and neck muscles taut. Their eyes widened a little when you slightly recoiled at his words before clenching your jaw and getting into the driver’s side of the shop.

Putting his hands on his hips, Tim looked up to the clouds then down at the water droplets on his boots. He glanced over, doing a double take when he realized his argument with you drew in an audience.

“Don’t you three have work to do?” He commented angrily as he got in the passenger side without even looking at them.

Sharing a look, they all got back to work, but they didn’t drop the theories of why you and Tim were arguing.

You winced when you pushed on the bruise on your ribs as you examined your body in the mirror.

The bruising spanned nearly your entire right side, your ribs and hip showing the darkest of the discoloration. Deep reds and angry yellows mostly; though you knew, come morning, they would be deep blues and bright purples.

Your face hurt, though it wasn’t as bruised as you expected. It was splotchy with discoloration. Most of the bruising and pain were localized to your nose, chin, brow bone and under your eyes. You knew you could handle the broken nose, the split lip and brow, though.

But you knew by the time you woke up -hell, by the time you got home tonight- your throat would be sore and your head would be throbbing as your sinuses made it impossible to breathe out of your nose. You were going to have to call in tomorrow.

“Damn…” You hissed as you let your shirt drop. After fighting to take down a perp, how was a dumb cold going to take you out?

You replayed today’s takedown a hundred times. What could you have done differently? Could you have parried a blow here and landed one there? Should you have run ahead of him, cut him off instead of engaging from behind? You were lighter in the patrol uniform, much lighter than the full SWAT gear you were used to wearing. You were faster than he was.

You sighed, rubbing your face and shaking out your hands. There was nothing you could change about the past now. So, you took mental notes and moved on. It was something you had learned while you were on S.W.A.T.: take the victory but understand your faults and apply critiques accordingly.

The takedown you could move past, eventually, but the argument with Tim was irking you. A persistent itch that just got worse when you scratched it.

Normally comments on your abilities didn’t affect you, you knew your worth. Hell, you were one of the youngest sergeants in the department, you were damn good at your job. But Tim’s words really seemed to bother you. Why? Was it because of the authority in which he said them? Saying them with such precision like he had always thought that way about you.

Or was it because you genuinely valued his opinion on your performance? That despite being a slightly higher ranked officer, you looked up to Tim and his confidence in his tactics. So hearing him say you couldn’t handle yourself actually made you second guess your abilities for the first time since you ever joined the LAPD.

It couldn’t be the latter… right?

There was no way you were going to let Tim Bradford get to you. Get you to second guess yourself and the fact you were second in command to one of the best S.W.A.T teams LA has to offer. Not when you worked your ass off to be there.

You scoffed to yourself, pushing the thoughts away and grabbing your leggings before sitting down to put them on.

“Oh damn, those look… gnarly,” Lucy's voice carried over from her locker as she opened it and got her clothes out.

You let out a huffed laugh, looking down to where you knew Lucy’s eyes were staring. “Eh, they’re not so bad. Simple self-defense bruises, get 'em on my arms all the time too. Comes with the job.” You stood and pulled your leggings up, groaning a little at the soreness in your limbs.

She nodded, taking her hair out of its bun before brushing it out as you gathered your bags. Chen watched you, not subtly in the slightest and she knew you could see her, but she couldn’t help it. She thought you were really cool – you were her age if not a year or two younger than her and were already a sergeant.

Lucy had of course looked you up after hearing about your transfer to patrol a few months ago. She had heard about you before and seen you once or twice when S.W.A.T had been called in to assist on a few cases – but she never talked to you much except a “good job” or a “thank you for your help”. But what she learned really made her admire you more.

You had gone to college for Law Enforcement, getting a two-year degree before applying to the LAPD the same day as your 21st birthday. After getting accepted, you went to the Academy and graduated the six month course at the top of your class. You did your year as a rookie, stayed a P2 for 9 months before attempting to qualify for the S.W.A.T academy. Unsurprisingly, you weren’t one of the few selected on your first attempt, but it clearly didn’t deter you. By the next year, you were recruited for the thirteen week course.

You may have been the last recruit picked in your class, but the last 4 years with S.W.A.T really showed the department what you were made of. And when you hit year 5 of being an officer, you were promoted to sergeant after passing the exam. You had served as your team leader’s right hand for the last year before you transferred to patrol.

Lucy’s not sure why you left S.W.A.T, no one is, but she can’t deny you’re good as a patrol officer too.

“I’ll catch you later, Chen. Have a good night,” you said, your hoarse voice pulling Lucy out of her thoughts. “Stay dry, alright?”

The officer nodded, putting her hairbrush back in her locker, “Yeah, you too. Drive safe.” She gave you her signature kind smile as you walked past her, receiving a closed lip smile from you – though it looked more like a grimace.

Lucy’s head tilted a little in automatic curiosity. She could sense something was off with you, even if you seemed completely fine to everyone else. It could just be the fact you kicked major ass barely a few hours ago, but you weren’t as light as you usually were. Your shoulders slouched and your feet drug just a little – the worn tread of your tennis shoes shuffling slightly on the polished concrete floor.

This wasn’t normal for you. Especially not after a successful arrest. Something was bothering you and she could tell. Maybe it was the fact the suspect had gotten the upper hand on you after you had chased him into the old gym, though you clearly came out on top.

She swallowed, turning to you completely as she gathered the courage to say something. “Everything okay? You seem a little… off.”

You sighed a little, the exhale bringing a cough up with it. “Yeah, just um… I’m just tired,” you nodded, coughing again as you circled your face with your index finger. “And I think I might be a little sick. Nothing more than a head cold and a sore throat probably, but I'm alright,” you said before adding. “And I don’t think the bruised ribs or the kick to the face help much. But I escaped concussion free, so that’s a plus. Goodnight, Lucy.”

Chen nodded before she furrowed her brow, your inflection sounding dejected with those last sentences. Then she remembered your argument with Tim at the scene after paramedics checked you out and how she noticed him talking to Sergeant Grey as she was walking to the locker room. Maybe it was something he said. She knows first hand how bad he can be. His comments can be unnecessarily harsh and make you feel like you’re not cut out to be an officer. It’s his way of showing you he cares about you.

She had to say something, to tell you he didn’t speak for everyone if nothing else. “Hey, Sergeant Remington–”

“It’s Y/N when we’re off duty, Luc’, or Remi, if you want to keep it semi-professional,” you told her, cutting her off before she could actually get to what she was going to say. You turned to face her fully and adjusted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder, “But what’s up?”

“I um… I just want to say,” she went up on the balls of her feet, playing with her fingers a little as she cleared her throat. “I just want to say I think you’re a badass. Your takedown today was insane.”

She cringed internally. It wasn’t exactly how she wanted to put it, but it seemed to work.

You couldn’t help but smile at her, her complement lifting your spirits a little. Just like it was supposed to. “Thank you Lucy, and you’re not too shabby yourself. And I’ve heard about your UC work, so don’t try to deny it.”

She smiled at you, clearly grateful for your words, “Thank you, Remi.” Her brow furrowed a little and she laughed uncomfortably, “That felt weird, I feel like Remi’s a name only S.W.A.T should be using. Can I call you Y/N?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, nodding as you looked up at her from your tennis shoes. “Y/N’s just fine, Luc’.” She nodded, thanking you again. “No problem, everyone needs a little reminder every now and then.”

She bit her lip a little and nodded. “Yeah, they do.”

You nodded to her, giving her final smile and a small parting wave, “See you in the morning, Chen. Goodnight.” She nodded, returning your wave before resuming her routine. “Night.”

Watching you leave, she sighed, mentally kicking herself for not just getting straight to the point and mentioning Tim. Maybe she’ll bring it up to you tomorrow.

Tim watched you exit the women's locker room, a slight limp in your step as you cringed a little and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

He scoffed a little and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe you were still planning to come in tomorrow, sore and bruised to hell.

“So what’s the deal between you and Sergeant Remington?” Lucy asked as she came up beside him, her hands slipping into her pockets. “You don’t seem to like her very much.”

“Where do you get that idea, Chen?” Tim asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lucy couldn’t help but laugh and point to his posture. “That. That right there: the pout and the arm cross. You’re getting defensive.”

He scoffed and uncrossed his arms. “I am not getting defensive.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Whatever. But I saw you both arguing at the scene. What was that about? You never seemed to have a problem with her before.”

“Lucy, it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business. Because one, we don’t need you two at each other’s throats. And two, she’s a badass and has already done so much with her career – she doesn’t need you being her TO. She knows what she’s doing. She is S.W.A.T after all.”

Tim sighed, crossing his arms again as he looked down at his shoes. He knew he didn’t need to tell you how to do your job – you knew what you were doing. He knew you were capable of the very actions you had done earlier in the day: taking down an armed suspect without even reaching for your firearm. You were a capable officer, that much everyone knew.

And despite what he said to you, he believed you were good at your job. But something about your sudden demotion to patrol after a very successful 5 years on S.W.A.T didn’t sit right with him and it was making him hostile towards you. Everyone believed you’d lead your own team and, hell, become captain one day.

The question was never whether or not you’d do the job. It was: why were you here? What was the reason you left S.W.A.T for patrol?

“So, I’m asking again. Do you two just have a personal beef with each other or something?” Lucy pressed, pretty persistent about why Tim was acting the way he was towards you. Especially after seeing you in the locker room.

Tim looked up at her. “It’s not that I have beef with her, or anything against her. But she’s here for a reason. I just don’t know what that reason is.”

Lucy nodded, tonguing her lip, “And you don’t like being out of the loop.” He shook his head and glanced out toward the parking lot as you drove away, “No, no I don’t.”

“Then talk to her, Tim. If you want to know – ask her, man. Because tearing her down like you did today won’t cut it.”

Tim furrowed his brow. “Tear her down? What are you talking about? My words don’t mean anything. Everyone in the LAPD knows she’s capable.”

Lucy scoffed, looking at him and letting out a laugh of disbelief, “You seriously believe that whatever you said to her today – whether or not you meant it – didn’t affect her? I may not have heard what you said to her, but I know from experience. And she didn’t seem very excited about the win today, bruises aside.”

Tim didn’t say anything, his hands moving to rest on his hips as he let Chen’s words sink in and he remembered the genuine hurt he saw cross your face today before you got in the shop.

She sighed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder as she shifted her weight onto her right hip. “Look, just talk to her. I’m sure if you explain yourself then she’d be willing to listen.”

“And if she’s not?”

“Well, then you better start groveling. Goodnight Tim,” she said, patting him on the shoulder as she left.

He nodded, his head on a lazy swivel as it followed her movements. “Yeah, night Lucy.”

Watching her leave, he sighed again. He knew he’d have to talk to you but he was sure you were stubborn enough to not give him much of anything. Especially after how he had talked to you today.

But, if he wanted to know anything, he had to go directly to you. Lucy had practically echoed what Sergeant Gray had told him when he had gone to him to talk about you.

Tim wasn’t so much worried about you, but the fact you were trained to think like a S.W.A.T officer. He was worried you might lead some officers into situations they weren’t ready for, or your ego would get bigger than you could show up for – resulting in you or multiple other officers getting injured.

He only wanted to make sure people were as safe as they could be in this job. And maybe his words from today didn’t really back his feelings as well as he thought they did.

Yeah… he had some thinking to do.

You sighed as you relaxed back in your seat, looking ahead as your headlights lit up the front of your house.

You looked up and saw your cat in the window, his tail flicking at the disruption of your lights in his face. A smile spread across your face, the tension in your shoulders rolling away as you saw him. You were home and could shake off the weight of the day now.

Turning your headlights off, Duke stretched on his perch and rubbed his face on the glass as you got out of your Bronco. You pulled the hood of your hoodie up and went over to the passenger side to grab your backpack out of the floor.

“Remi! What are you doing out in the rain?”

You turned at the call of your name, seeing one of your neighbors on their porch. “Mrs. Horton, I could ask you the same! You should be inside, you know what I’ve told you about being out here this late, and in the rain.”

The older woman pulled her cardigan around her tighter, clearly cold. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you got home, sweetheart. You’re late.”

You sighed, shutting and locking your truck up. “I know, things got intense at work today. But everything’s okay, Mrs. Horton, promise.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod as she moved to go back inside. “Have you eaten? The grandkids and I ordered pizza, we have some leftovers if you want them.” You smiled at her, but waved off the offer, “I had something at work, but thank you.”

She nodded, “Well alright, you have a good night now.”

“You too Mrs. H.” You watched her go inside, waiting until her lights were off and her blinds were closed before you went inside your own home.

Duke greeted you immediately when you walked in, rubbing his head on your bruised shins as you locked up. “Yeah, hi Duke-ster. I bet you enjoyed today. You love gloomy weather.”

The black cat meowed in agreement before padding over to the kitchen. You laughed softly, triggering a small coughing fit as you walked to the kitchen after him. “Boy, you have food. Don’t even start.” He meowed again, a little annoyed. “Nuh-uh, you are not about to give me attitude after the day I’ve had. Eat what you have, and then we’ll talk about it.”

He let out a small meow before settling for his practically full bowl of food. You rolled your eyes as you shed your hoodie, putting it over the back of a chair. “Drama king.”

You smiled and went back to the living room where your pup was yipping in her kennel, excited because you were home.

“Oh hi sweet girl,” you cooed before squatting down with a grunt to let her out. “You probably need to go outside. Let’s do that and then you, me, and Duke are cuddling up on the couch.” She barked happily and licked your face before running to the back door, pawing at it.

You smiled and stood, “Good girl.”

The next morning, Tim sat in his truck, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he went over the words he would say to you before you had to be in for roll call. He had today off but he wanted to apologize before he lost the courage he had built up.

He had thought about this situation all night and during the drive to the station. What he would say, how he would say it – he tried to plan it all out.

Tim had messed up, he realized that now. His words yesterday weren’t exactly nice – though when has Tim Bradford ever been known to be nice? But it was no excuse for what he said to you.

He may have had good intentions, a concern for the officers under both of your commands, but his words didn’t reflect that. They were harsher, coming across with an air of arrogance and spite.

He had to apologize to you, explain himself better and with more respect than he had given you yesterday. You may be young, but you were skilled and determined, one of the hardest workers he’d ever met. You were right, you deserve respect for what you do.

He finally got out of his truck and walked towards the precinct.

Now or never, right?

Lucy and John watched Tim walk in from where they were perched on Angela’s desk.

“Oh, Tim’s got his thinking face on,” Lopez noticed, a sly grin pulling at her lips.

Lucy turned with furrowed brow before she snorted softly. She leaned down to talk in the detective's ear, “Do you think he’s gonna apologize to Y/N when she gets here?”

Angela scoffed with a laugh, “Tim, apologize? Good joke, Chen.”

“I mean, he could, if he wanted to,” Nolan said, pulling his phone out as it went off in his pocket.

Lucy nodded, agreeing with her fellow officer as he walked away to answer his phone. “Yeah, he apologized to me. Sorta.”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice broke through their conversation. “Have any of you seen Remi at all? I um I need to talk to her.”

Both women noticed him shoving his hands in his pockets and looking around, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Angela arched a brow and stood up, leaning on her desk, “Timothy? You okay? You look nervous.”

“Just need to talk to Y/N.”

Lucy couldn’t help but have a slight smirk on her face, but before she could tease him, John came back from his phone call.

“Sorry, that was Remi. She’s not gonna be in today, called in sick.”

Tim sighed, now feeling a little disheartened in his efforts to apologize since you weren’t even here. “Then I um… I guess I better go…”

“Maybe you could swing by her place, apologize that way,” Lucy suggested before going into roll call with Nolan.

Angela looked at Tim, brow arched quizzically. She rested her chin on her hand as she looked him over. “Apologize? The Tim Bradford is apologizing? Whatever for?”

Her teasing tone was pitched up an octave as she leaned on the desk. She had an idea on why he was apologizing – she was a detective after all. But she also loved to tease her best friend, hence why she wanted to press his buttons and get him to say it out loud – just to confirm her suspicions.

If she had to guess, denial would be his first go to. The whole ‘What would I even apologize for? Telling the truth?’ roundabout game. Or the ‘She’s a police sergeant, she can’t be so sensitive’ rant.

But, in a surprising turn of events, she got a nod from the man.

“Yeah. I’m not apologizing because what I said was untrue…” He nodded as he trailed off before looking down at his boots, “Though some of it may have been. I’m apologizing because I should have been more respectful than I was.”

“Ah,” she replied as she nodded, sitting back in her chair and tapping her pen on the desk “Gotcha. But why? You’ve never cared about it before. Where’s this sudden change coming from? Are you getting soft on us, Timothy?”

Tim rolled his eyes, scoffing at the detective. “No, I am not ‘getting soft’, Lopez. I just… I don’t want there to be any discourse out in the field. We can’t afford letting a small fight get between us.”

“You think a trained S.W.A.T sergeant is going to let her personal feelings impact how she does her job?”

“She’s 28, it’s a little hard to separate your emotions from the job at that age.”

She fixed him with a look but just rolled her eyes. “Just go apologize to her, Bradford, before your ego has time to catch up with your brain.” She waved her hand dismissively at him before she turned back to her case file.

Tim just looked at her before tossing his hands up and letting them slap his thighs before walking back out to his truck.

“Well, guess I’m going to her place.”

When Tim pulled up to your house, he didn’t see your Bronco parked outside – though it didn’t necessarily mean you weren’t home.

He glanced around when he pulled up. Surprisingly, he had recognized the neighborhood, despite the previous run down and overgrown houses looking like they had just been built. He hadn’t been in this part of town in about seven or eight months. Something’s changed in this neighborhood, and Tim had a feeling he was about to learn who was at the center of it.

After gathering the courage, he got out of his truck and went up to the door.

He took a deep breath and knocked, hearing barking come from inside as a result. He didn’t know you had a dog. When did you get a dog?

“Excuse me, sir? Can I help you?”

Alert, his head whipped over to see where the voice came from – seeing a woman maybe in her early 60s leaning on the fence. She looked trustworthy, and she was clearly your neighbor. A very close neighbor given how she seemed to be keeping an eye on your door and the garden hose she would happily spray Tim with if he was a threat.

“I um I’m Sergeant Tim Bradford, I work with Sergeant Remington,” he told her honestly.

“Oh,” she said, a small nod of recognition. “Y/N’s mentioned you. And I’m sure I’ve seen you around before when you had a lot of calls out this way.”

Tim nodded. “I’m sure you have. It’s been awhile since I’ve been called out here though. Any idea what that’s about?”

Mrs. Horton smiled at him and leaned on the fence. “We’ve got Remi to thank for that. She moved here and things slowly started to change. It’s been nice and the kids around here trust her.”

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Tim said, his voice unexpectedly fond. Though he didn’t hate it, he could admit what you did here was something to admire.

He nodded toward the door, “Is she home? I need to talk to her. Work stuff.”

Mrs Horton shook her head, “No, she went to the grocery store. I told her I would go since I know how she doesn’t like being questioned about the bruises she gets from work. She should be home soon though.”

“Okay, thank you.”

She nodded and sent him a smile before returning to her garden, leaving Tim awkwardly standing on your front porch.

He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face before going back to his truck – getting meowed at by your cat when he walked by the window.

The moment you turned the corner and onto your street, an audible sigh left your mouth when you saw the silver Dodge parked on the street in front of your house.

You knew it was Tim’s truck even though you were yards away from it. And based on the outline of the person, you could tell he was inside of it. The only thing you couldn’t come to a conclusion on was why he was at your house in the middle of the day – on his day off.

Especially with how nice it was. It was a perfect day to be outside.

If you had the day off, and didn’t cough up a lung every time you inhaled the wrong way or your shins didn’t hurt with every step you took, you would have taken your dog on a hike. You knew Tim loved being outside when it was nice, he always talked about going to the range or taking Kojo out to play.

So, why was he parked in front of your house?

You shook your head a little, groaning when it throbbed in protest, as you pulled into your spot and parked. You sat there for a moment, collecting yourself and letting the aching in your body subside before you got out.

You were seriously regretting turning down Mrs. Horton’s offer for her to go to the store for you.

Instead of ignoring the silver elephant in the street and taking your groceries inside, you turned off your truck and got out before going over to his driver side window.

Might as well get it over with now instead of making him come to your door and knock.

He had rolled his window down when he noticed you walking over. He almost got out to meet you in the driveway, but he figured it’d be easier to stay in his truck if you told him to leave – probably safer too.

You crossed your arms in front of you. “What are you doing here, Bradford?”

You were still very frustrated and hurt by what he said yesterday, in front of your coworkers no less. It was embarrassing. It doesn’t matter if you thought you were justified in the actions you took – Tim called you out in front of them and embarrassed you.

“Can I not just come by and see a coworker?”

“No, you can’t. What do you want?”

You didn’t have the time, nor the energy, to play this game with him. You just wanted to see what he wanted and go inside so you can have your soup.

He sighed and nodded, “I just need to talk to you. I was gonna talk to you before you went out on patrol this morning, but you called in sick.”

You furrowed your brow as you glanced around, “You came all the way out here to ‘talk’?” His nod only made you scoff. “After what happened yesterday, I highly doubt you came out here to just talk.”

“I want to talk about yesterday… What we said, mainly what I said. Can I come in?”

You cut your eyes at him, “What is there to talk about? I think you said plenty yesterday.” You’re not usually this snappy, but your head was pounding and your body was aching. The heat was also aggravating your fever. So, you were just annoyed at everything at this point.

“Y/N, please.”

The look on his face was nothing short of desperate, an expression you’d never thought you’d see from him.

You huffed and dropped your arms to your sides, “You’re carrying the dog food.”

Turning on your heel, you went to your backseat to get your armload of grocery bags. When you didn’t hear his truck door open or shut, you glanced over your shoulder. “Move it or lose it, Bradford. You wanna talk, get out and help me carry this stuff in.”

Tim shook himself out of whatever trance he was in and got out. He locked his truck before going over to yours and getting the dog food out of the back.

He followed you to the door, standing next to you as you unlocked and opened it. You led the way inside, going straight to the kitchen with Tim and your pup on your heels.

“Oh yeah, hi Dahlia, I know I know,” you cooed to the bloodhound puppy as she pawed at your legs. “I know, let me put these away really quick and I will take you outside.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile when he heard you address the puppy as he shut and locked your front door for you.

He’d never really heard you talk like this before – softer but pitched up ever so slightly. Normally you had a very professional tone, authoritative and strong. Though, since you were in the comfort of your own home, you didn’t need to be in work mode.

“Meow”

Tim paused his stride and looked down at the black cat sitting in his path and looked up at him curiously.

“Duke, that food’s not for you, you have food,” you said, your tone slightly annoyed but held a gentle, almost parenting, tone. You hadn’t even turned around from where you were putting things away, you just knew exactly what the cat was doing.

Tim just chuckled to himself and stepped around the black fluff ball on the ground. “Where would you like me to put this?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion for a second before you registered his question. “Oh um, just there by the bowls are fine. I’ll refill the tub later.” He just nodded and followed your instructions, setting the bag on the ground next to the dog food bowls.

Dahlia yipped at your feet, pulling at your shoelaces as you tried to put groceries away. “Nien, Dahlia. Stoppen,” you slightly snapped, your finger pointed down at her. “Sich hinlegen.”

The young pup seemed to understand you and stopped pulling on your laces, moving to lay down in front of your fridge.

Tim let out an amused huff, crossing his arms as he leaned against the island in the middle of your kitchen. “I didn’t know you spoke German. Or that you were training your dog to learn those commands.”

You looked over your shoulder at him before going back to setting out ingredients.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Bradford. You just think you know things.”

Okay… he deserved that.

He nodded, his tongue pulling his lip between his teeth for a moment. “I didn’t know you used to

work for K-9.” You hummed, not looking up. “Well, that’s because I didn’t.”

“Then how-”

“Because she was a recruit. She failed out because she’s nearly completely blind in one eye. She was trained for a few weeks and learned the basic commands. She knows them in German and a few in English.”

“Oh,” was really all Tim could respond with.

The silence following his response was awkward. Tim felt awkward just standing there in your kitchen. It was clear you had your guard up from how you weren’t really talking to him or facing him. You weren’t scared of Tim in any way, but he had insulted you barely a day ago and now he was in your home. You had every right to not want him here.

A heavy, frustrated sigh left your lips, breaking the silence as your hands smacked the bar.

“You came here to talk Bradford, so talk. My body feels like a two-by-four. My face and ribs hurt every time I cough or sneeze, and my sinuses have so much pressure in them I’m dizzy if I think for too long. I just want to make some soup to eat and go to sleep.”

You took a few deep breaths, letting the headache subside a little before you continue. “So, just say what you have to say so I can do that.”

Tim looked at you sympathetically. You really did look exhausted. Standing up looked to be a chore and you were sweating, despite the AC being turned up.

“Why don’t you go shower?” He suggested after his observation.

You looked at him confused, “What?”

He gestured to you. “You’re probably covered in sweat under that hoodie and those leggings. Take Dahlia out and then go take a shower. A hot one. The steam will clear up your sinuses and relax your muscles. While you do that,” he stepped closer to you, nodding to the ingredients on the counter. “I’ll make you soup.”

He half-expected you to tell him you could do it on your own and to screw off.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you seemed to relax, a breath leaving your lips as your eyes closed briefly. “You won’t poison it, right?” You asked, a brow quirking up as your eyes opened. Tim couldn’t help but chuckle and nod, “Promise.”

You nodded back, running your hand over your face, “Thank you, Bradford. That helps me out a lot…”

“No need to thank me. Now go so I can work,” he told you as he waved you out of your own kitchen.

You sent him a small smile and stepped away, “C’mon Dahlia, let’s go outside.”

Dahlia’s head shot up, her ears flopping and her collar tag making a small ringing noise. You nodded at her, “Yeah, I said outside. Let’s go sweet girl.”

She got up quickly and, in her haste, she slipped on the tiles a little. You covered your mouth to keep from laughing at the sight as Dahlia trotted over to you.

“Okay, we’ll be right back,” you told Tim as you opened the backdoor. Once he nodded in acknowledgement, you stepped outside with Dahlia.

The moment you stepped out of your comfortably air conditioned home and back into the California summer, the sweat pooling on your skin was immediately noticeable. The humidity from the night rain making you feel unbearably sticky.

Your hoodie no longer felt soft. It was heavy and constricting, sticking to your damp skin in the most uncomfortable way.

“Oh nope, gross.”

You peeled the thick, itchy fabric off of you, Dahlia none the wiser that you didn’t follow her out onto the grass. She ran around the yard, rolling in plush grass and somehow not tripping on her floppy ears.

“Oh dear, you did have a long day yesterday.”

Mrs Horton’s soft, motherly tone drew your attention to the fence separating your backyards. You smiled softly at her, she always checked up on you if you ever told her you had a long day. When you moved in, she’d taken to you immediately, treating you like a daughter just as much as a neighbor.

You walked over to her, leaning on the fence as she gave you a gentle smile.

“Yeah… doesn’t help that my sinuses decided now was a fantastic time to act up,” you grumbled, but you couldn’t stop the rough chuckle.

She gently rubbed your arm. “And now you have a guest.”

You chuckled again, following it with a rough cough this time. “Yeah, not exactly an ideal situation. But he’s actually being helpful, so it’s not awful.”

Mrs Horton nodded, opening her mouth to say something before she was cut off by someone calling out to you.

“Hey Remi!”

Your head whipped over, Dahlia barking at the new voice. But you recognized the owner immediately, sending him a smile.

“Hi Dizzy.”

“Aye, what happened?” The young man asked, gesturing to his face in reference to the bruises on yours.

You sighed, hanging your head. You knew people would ask, you got stopped a few times at the store by concerned shoppers. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly won’t be the last.

“I saw the truck in front of your place, he do that?”

You immediately shook your head. “Oh no no, it’s not like that, Dizzy. I promise. This happened at work yesterday. You know I can’t hold down a man for long.”

Dizzy chuckled and leaned on the fence. “I mean, I could fix that.”

Both you and Mrs Horton laughed. This was a normal occurrence with Dizzy if you ever mentioned dating. You’d make a comment on being broken up with, he’d reply saying he would be the solution for your ‘broken heart’. It was all in good fun – you both knew it would never go past banter.

“I’m 10 years your senior, Diz,” you told him, like you alway do.

“Ah,” he dismissed, waving a hand and clicking his tongue. “That don’t matter.”

“Maybe try again when you’re 28, D. Graduate first.” You smiled at him before taking in what he was wearing. “You goin’ to work?”

He nodded, adjusting his uniform shirt with a grin. “Yes ma’am, Jack’s got me workin’ a few hours today. I needed the overtime.”

You nodded, pointing in the direction of the mechanic shop. “You better get goin’ then, don’t want you to be late.” Dizzy nodded, waving goodbye to you and Mrs Horton before jogging down the alley.

“You really got him turned around, Y/N. That’s the Desmond I remember,” Mrs Horton said softly.

Dizzy had been a part of one of the gangs in the neighborhood. Nothing more than misdemeanors on his record, but he had been caught up in a suspected carjacking and it would’ve been marked as a felony – with added assault charges because the victim had been injured.

But you managed to convince the DA to cut him a deal. He hadn’t been the one with the gun, nor the one to drive the car. He was just a reluctant tag along. Neighbors and witnesses said Dizzy wasn’t a leader, not in a violent way.

You had moved into the neighborhood just before all of this happened. And after, you were hellbent on getting Desmond set on the right path. He wasn’t a violent kid, he’d just been a little lost after his sister was killed and his father got sick. He didn’t know where he belonged, and the gang gave him a place to go. But you knew, deep down, it wasn’t where he wanted his life to go.

“I just got him started, he’s been doing the rest,” you said, just as softly as she had.

She smiled and patted your shoulder. “That’s because he doesn’t want to disappoint you, dear. You’re a very important person in his life, a support system he has had since his sister died.”

You sighed, nodding before glancing behind you to see Dahlia sitting by your sliding glass doors – patiently waiting to be let in.

“Better head in. Bradford was nice enough to make my lunch while I shower.”

Mrs Horton nodded, before a small call of “Nana!” came from the screened in door. “I better head inside too, we’re going to the water park today and they’re excited.”

You laughed softly as you both turned to go back inside. “Have fun!” She waved to you as she bid her goodbye, “Oh they will! Feel better dear!” You nodded, playfully saluting her before regretfully jogging up your porch steps.

Hissing at the pain shooting up your shins in protest, you grabbed your hoodie and slid open the door.

“We’re back,” you announced as you opened the door.

Tim looked up from the cutting board, freezing slightly at the sight of your arms. Defensive bruises littered your forearms, offensive ones marked the backs of your biceps and your knuckles. You put up a hell of a fight, and you walked away with the proof.

He gave you a nod, gesturing to the stuff around him with his knife. “Alright, I’m still getting stuff prepped. So, take as long as you need, and then add a little more.”

You nodded, dropping your hoodie off in the laundry room as you went toward your bedroom. “Yes sir, Sergeant.”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcastic tone in your voice, how you’re saying his title like a petulant teenager. He tossed a carrot at you, watching the orange vegetable hit you between the shoulder blades before falling to the floor to be gobbled up by Dahlia as she followed behind you.

When you got into your bedroom you immediately stripped down to your underwear. You were covered in sweat and your sinuses made your head feel like a bowling ball. You really did need this, a calm and relaxing shower – or a bath. A bath sounds nice.

Dahlia followed you around your room as you grabbed clothes, comfy shorts and an oversized S.W.A.T t-shirt, and laid them on the bed. “Dahlia, baby, you’re going to need to let me have some me time.” As much as you loved the pup, you weren’t bathing with both your bedroom door open and your bathroom door open – at least not with Tim down in the kitchen.

You led her to the door and gently booted her out into the hall with your foot, closing the door before she could turn around. You felt your heart tug when she whimpered and barked a little at the closed door, scratching at the bottom of it.

Shaking your head a little, you go into the en suite bathroom, grabbing your towels and putting them on the hook next to the bath. You pulled out your phone, sitting it on the cabinet you have next to the tub before you stepped in and turned the water on. You let the water get hot before you mess with the temperature, letting the water get just a little too hot before you plug the drain to let it fill up.

You stepped back out of the tub, letting the bathmat soak up the water dripping off your feet as you knelt in front of the cabinet. Opening the doors, you grabbed the vanilla bubble bath and the Epsom salt. The salt should help soothe your aching muscles, you weren’t entirely sure how it worked but it didn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. As long as your body stopped hurting, you weren’t concerned with the how. The bubble bath was because you felt awful and wanted fun bubbles, a tool used to boost personal morale. But peppermint was going to be the next essential part of this bath. Your sinuses felt like a pressurized container that was on the brink of exploding all the time but could never quite get there.

Sniffling, you reach back into the cabinet, blindly searching for the bottle of the essential oil.

“Ugh, shit.”

You groaned, cursing yourself as you pushed yourself off the floor. You’d run out of it the last time you had congestion, using the last of it in a bowl of hot water and on a warm cloth you draped over your face. In your confusion of Tim showing up at your house to him offering to make you soup while you relaxed, you had forgotten to grab the essential oil you bought.

Grabbing your towel, you trudged back through your room and opened the door.

“Hey Tim-”

You stopped when you almost ran right into the man’s chest.

“Oh geez!”

“Sorry sorry,” Tim apologized, averting his eyes. He held his hand out, a small plastic bottle in his palm. “Found this in one of the bags, figured it was for your congestion.”

You looked at the bottle, nodding as you took the peppermint oil. “Yeah, thanks. I was about to come get this actually.”

“Looks like I beat ya to it-”

You nodded again, coughing and turning your head away. The tickle came up suddenly and violently, rattling your chest and scratching your throat. Your face throbbed with each rough, forced exhale.

Fuck, you hated having a head cold. Not to mention the beating your body had taken the day before making the body aches so much worse.

Finally, the fit subsided and you looked back at Tim. He was looking at you concerned. His brows were pulled together as his eyes scanned your face.

“What?” Your voice rasped, strained from coughing so hard.

He didn’t even say anything as he reached for your towel.

“Ah! Tim, what the hell!?” You yelped, pulling on the terrycloth in an attempt to get him to let go. But he didn’t.

“Hold still, Rem!”

“Why?!”

“Because your nose is bleeding!”

You stopped, lips parting a little as they suddenly felt sticky and warm. Your coughing fit must have aggravated your broken nose and you just hadn’t noticed the blood until Tim pointed it out.

“Close your mouth, you’re gonna get blood in it,” Tim ordered gently as he tilted your head forward. He wiped your lips and under your nose, keeping his gaze on your face in fear of wandering too low.

He applied pressure to your nose, hoping to stop the bleeding before your bathtub overflowed.

You looked back at him, watching his face carefully as his deep blue eyes scanned the bruises on the bridge of your nose and under your eyes.

The concern showing on his features wasn’t something new, you’d seen it before. But it was normally directed at Lucy or Angela, and on the special occasion, John. In the few months you’d been with the Mid-Wilshire station, you’d never been shot a look like this – not from the stone-faced Sergeant Bradford.

And after how he yelled at you yesterday, you were sure you’d never receive one.

But right now? This was the softest look you’ve received from him. His eyes, while alert, were rounded. His lips were parted slightly and downturned into a gentle frown. Tim was worried about you.

“Paramedics said I wouldn’t need a nose job. A win for me, I think.”

You had to break the silence. The rushing water filling the empty air was making you anxious. Tim had just been looking you over like you’d been shot and you didn’t know what to do.

He blinked, pulling himself out of his focus.

“Oh, yeah yeah. That’s good.”

His tone was distant, lost in the thoughts filling his mind as he kept pressure with the towel.

You arched a brow at him, his concern adding onto your confusion from before. “That might change if you keep pressing the towel into it like that.”

He shook his head and let up a little, but didn’t pull away. “Right, sorry. Just wanted to get it stopped.”

You gently push his hand away, mirroring his concerned look back at him. “Thank you, Bradford. I’m alright though. Just a little nosebleed.”

Tim’s eyes went to the towel and back up at you. “Little?”

You looked down, the white back of the towel covered in deep red blood. “Oh damn, it was worse than I thought…”

He cleared his throat, tilting your head up a little with his hand on your forehead. You let him look at your nose for a few seconds before stepping back.

“My tub is gonna overflow if I don’t get back to it. And I don’t know what step you’re on but if you don’t get back in there, Duke is gonna make a feast out of whatever you left out.”

Tim chuckled, relaxing finally. “He’s already tried to take the chicken. However, I did cave and give him some. I hope that’s okay.”

You nodded, laughing lightly. “Oh yeah. I spoil them both from time to time. Especially since it’s usually just me here, unless it’s family dinner night. I try not to let anything go bad.”

“Okay good. I did give Dahlia some, too.”

“Good, she would have felt left out.”

“Oh, she did.”

You both laughed, sharing a moment of oddly comfortable silence afterwards. It was nice. The tension between you and Tim had seemingly melted away.

Until you realized you were standing there in your bra and panties and he was holding a bloody towel.

You cleared your throat, looking at the bottle of oil in your hand. “Welp… I should-” You gestured aimlessly toward your bathroom.

He nodded, clearing his throat as well. “Yeah, yeah. Do you have another clean towel?”

“Mhm, I have my stash in the bathroom. There’s peroxide in the other bathroom. If you’ll put the towel in the tub and just let it soak, I’ll scrub it later.”

Tim arched a concerned brow at you, chuckling at the instructions. You swatted at his arm as you went to your bathroom, scoffing. “I was a manager of the basketball team in high school, I cleaned my fair share of bloody towels. Girls can be ruthless.”

He held his hands up, walking back into the hall. “Whatever you say, Sergeant Remington,” he teased as he closed your bedroom door.

You rolled your eyes at him and went back to deal with your definitely almost full bathtub.

After your bath, Tim had finished making lunch and you both sat in surprisingly comfortable silence as you ate.

You both sat on the couch, enjoying your chicken and dumpling soup on opposite ends. Dahlia sat with you, resting her head on the back of your thigh and curling up comfortably in the open space between your legs and the backrest of the couch.

“Thank you, Tim. I really appreciate you making lunch. And dinner will be much easier since it will be the leftovers,” you said softly, a yawn threatening your words. “There are leftovers, right?”

Tim chuckled, nodding, “There are leftovers, yes.” He finished his last bit of the soup and stood, earning a little swat from Duke for disturbing his rest. He eyed the fluffy assailant playfully, earning a raspy chuckle from you.

As he began to walk toward the kitchen you stopped him.

“Oh oh, are you going to the kitchen?”

His eyes narrowed a little. “Yes… why?”

You hold out your bowl, smiling innocently. “Will you take mine? Just put them in the sink, I’ll do them later.”

“Your legs work,” he said, but was stepping towards you anyway.

“Yeah, but I’m sick and you’re already heading there,” you countered as you pushed the bowl into his hand. He took it and rolled his eyes, but you could see a small smirk on his face as he went to the kitchen.

You yawned while his back was turned and made yourself comfortable on the couch. Lunch was sitting heavy on your stomach, in a good way, and your eyes were getting heavier by the second. You didn’t fight as sleep took over you.

Tim walked back into the living room from putting both of your bowls in the sink and found you passed out on the couch. “That was fast,” he sassed softly, though he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He’d seen you relaxed, sure. During the days you were desk bound, or moments you were bonding with other officers – smiling and laughing with all of them. But something about this was different.

You were one hundred percent calm. No furrowed brow, no tense jaw. Your eyes were closed, not analytical or scrutinizing. Your arms, littered in bruises under your hoodie sleeves, were wrapped around a pillow, not tense and ready to defend you. Your legs, also covered in deep, discolored splotches, were curled underneath your blanket, not braced to run.

This was a side to a lot of officers no one saw. The part of them the public, and even fellow officers, weren’t privy to witnessing. The human part of them.

Grabbing the remote, Tim turned the volume down on the tv and adjusted the blanket on you, giving Dahlia a quick pet as she stirred. You hummed softly, shifting a little at his touch. Your face turned a little, moving it from where it was smashed into your pillow. He sighed a little to himself, looking over the bruising on your face. He swallowed and clenched his jaw a bit before looking around your house.

He wasn’t going to leave. He came over to apologize and talk with you, he was going to do that. But he could wait for you to wake up on your own. He didn’t have anywhere to be.

“Might as well make myself useful.”

Tim stepped out of the guest bathroom, his damp hair spiked up from running a towel over it.

While you slept, he made himself busy with general chores around your house. Nothing invasive, he didn’t wash your underwear or go into your room. The laundry he did consisted of towels mostly, since he couldn’t really ruin those.

He did the dishes, cleaning up his mess from cooking and putting away the leftovers. He filled the dog food tub. He decided to clean the house: dusting, sweeping, mopping – hoping this was enough to help keep your sinuses from getting irritated.

He even went as far to do yard work for you. Which is why he was getting out of the shower now, thanking himself for having a change of clothes in his truck.

Before he even made it to the living room, he could hear Dahlia whimpering.

With a furrowed brow, he tossed the towel into the laundry basket and walked around the corner. “Dahlia, what’s wrong?”

The bloodhound pup was awake and on the floor, pulling at the blanket covering you before moving to lick your face. She was trying to wake you up.

Tim looked at you, searching for why Dahlia was so upset. You seemed alright at first glance but looking for a moment longer, he can see the distress on your face and hear the soft cries falling from your lips.

He swore under his breath, knelt next to the couch. Now that he was closer, he could see the tears streaming down your face.

He knew being this close to you could end badly for him if you woke up, especially if you woke up still in the throes of your nightmare. But he couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore.

As his hand grips you bicep, you jolt awake with a gasp. In an instant, your hand wraps around his wrist in a harsh grip. Panting sobs left your lips, tears still soaking your skin as you looked around frantically.

Dahlia started barking, high pitched yips filling the otherwise quiet house.

Tim held his hands up, not attempting to break your grasp. “Hey, hey, Y/N it’s me. Remi, it’s Tim. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Wide eyed, you let his wrist go and sit up. You wiped your cheeks, clearing the tear tracks from them as you sniffled. “I… I um- sorry. I didn’t even realize-”

Tim shook his head, moving to stand. “It’s okay. I didn’t want to leave you like that…” He moved to sit next to you on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice was softer and more gentle than you’d ever heard it before. “It looked pretty intense. It might help.”

You looked him over, seeing nothing but sincerity and concern. But you could see the searching gaze, too, analyzing your entire being.

Suddenly, your hands are much more interesting than the perceptive blue eyes watching your every move. Swallowing, you crossed your legs and pushed yourself back into the corner of the couch.

“You don’t have to tell me, Remi,” Tim said softly as he picked Dahlia up and placed her back on the couch.

“No, no you deserve to know. After all,” you cleared your throat as you pet Dahlia, still avoiding looking directly at Tim. “You came all this way to talk. So… I’ll talk.”

He nodded, turning fully toward you to give you his full attention.

A moment passed and you stayed quiet, letting all of your thoughts come to you. When they did, you let out a soft, slightly raspy sigh.

“About six months ago,” you started, head tipping back as tears already began welling up in the corners of your eyes. “My team and I were raiding an abandoned factory. A drug trafficking ring was operating there, according to our sources.” A shaking hand threaded its fingers in your damp hair as your gaze fixated on the wall in front of you for a moment before going back to your lap.

“When we got there,” your teeth bit down on your lip to hide its tremble, “we managed to get a few of them. The um… the decoys, the fall guys – whatever you want to call them.” A bruised forearm wiped at your cheeks, smearing hot tears across them. “I… I spotted the head guy, their leader, ‘Umbrasyl’. I notified Burke before taking off after him…”

A quivering breath rattled your chest as more tears slipped down your cheeks. You didn’t bother trying to stop them now.

Sniffling, you continued. “I caught up with Umbrasyl, called for back-up after I had tackled him to the ground. It was a struggle to get him into handcuffs. He squirmed and managed to get us flipped-” You shook your head, waving a hand and scoffing a little. “That part doesn’t matter. What mat-ters…” your voice broke but you kept going. “What matters is that I was so caught up in getting him in cuffs, that I didn’t notice the dead-man’s switch he was holding.”

You didn’t even have to look at him, you could feel Tim’s body go rigid at the detail. But he stayed quiet, letting you finish.

“He was unconscious and I had him in cuffs, that’s all I saw until it was like the air itself was still before the world shook.” The next inhale you took made Tim cringe. It sounded like air rushing through broken glass, raspy and no doubt painful. “I was close enough to feel the heat but far enough away to not be hurt by the explosion.”

You wiped your tears again, frustrated that they wouldn’t stop simply because you wanted them too. Tim gently nudged you, a tissue pinned between his fingers. You gave him a small, but grateful smile as you took it. “Thanks, Bradford…”

His heart clenched at the sight of your face. Purple bruises broke up the red splotches on your cheeks. Tears and snot dampened your skin. Your lips looked irritated and chapped.

This wasn’t the headstrong officer he saw in the shop with him, nor the peaceful civilian sleeping on her couch. This was a heartbroken woman in front of him.

He managed out a soft ‘of course’, and his hand came to rest on Dahlia’s lower back – keeping it in reach in case you might need it.

“I didn’t even wait for other officers to get there, I turned and ran back into the building.”

You must have heard Tim’s thoughts before he could say anything because you were answering his unasked question.

“My team was in there… I wasn’t going to just watch.” You set the now used tissues aside and rubbed your face. “It was hot… It was so hot, Tim. I didn’t know if my blood was boiling from my adrenaline or the flames, but I didn’t really care. I had to get my team out…”

“And did you?” Tim felt like he knew the answer, but decided to ask anyway.

You nodded, clearing your throat as you adjusted your position. “Some of them. I got Riley out and Cunningham was running inside to get who he could… Only Riley and I made it out fairly unscathed. When-” Tears coated your words. “When I went back to get the others, the building collapsed. More flames and embers kicked up into the sky. Fire was on the scene and managed to get Cunningham and Nguyen out. But their injuries… they won’t be in the field ever again. And the rest… the rest of my team didn’t go home that night.”

A sob finally pushed past your lips, but you cut it short and looked at Tim. “All because I wasn’t careful…”

Silence sat in the air for a moment. Neither of you knew what to say after that. What could you say?

Tim decided to break it with a deep, disappointed sigh. Rubbing his face, he spoke. “I.. I’m so- Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it… I had no right to say what I did yesterday. It was out of line… Especially knowing what happened-”

“You’re right,” you said, voice cracking and dry. “You didn’t have a right to say that to me.” You bit the inside of your cheek and sighed. “I look up to you, Tim. I do. So what you think of my work as an officer means a lot… I also know that I worked my ass off to be where I am. But when you said that I was dangerous for what I did to get that suspect yesterday and that I could have gotten other people hurt–”

“Y/N-”

You held up a hand to cut him off. “I get it, Tim. I really get it. What I did was risky, I know that. But what you said… it hurt, a lot. Because I think about that night everyday. Every. Damn. Day.”

“I never would have said that if I knew…”

“I know. Except, I understand why you did, Tim. And while I was hurt by it, I knew you were coming from a place of leadership, a place of looking out for your fellow officers – your friends.”

Tim nodded, confirming your statement. “I was. And I was just… your sudden switch to patrol made me nervous. But I could have phrased it differently. My tone towards you, no matter the circumstance, was unacceptable. And for that, I am sorry. You were right, you deserve more respect than I gave you.”

You gave him a gentle smile and nodded, “Thank you. For your apology and helping me out today.” You held out a hand, “To better tomorrows?”

He smiled and took it. “To better tomorrows.”

hello loves, i hope you enjoyed this! especially you nonny, if you're still hanging around 😅 it took a lot long than i meant for it to to finish this -- but i wanted to make something i was proud of that fit the request. i did take a huge creative liberty in why tim and remi didn't really get along but i still hope you like it!

if you did like it please let me know! whether it be a like, comment, reblog, or send me letter letting me know how you feel! keep it kind and respectful, love y'all!

taglist: so um... it's been a while since i've posted a fic so please forgive my lack of a taglist. if you like this and want to be notified when i post a fic or moodboard please follow me here -> @vinnys-recordcollection

also thank you to @teacupsandtopgun and @startrekfangirl2233 for beta-ing this for me, love y'all 💜

#vinny’s record collection #awful yesterdays #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x swat!reader #tim bradford request #request #the rookie #the rookie fanfic #sarahsmi13s

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vinnys-recordcollection · 3 months ago

Text

Fever Dream

pairing: evan buckley x nash!reader

characters: evan 'buck' buckley, nash!reader, bobby nash, athena grant

warnings: CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR 8.15, mentions of religion, blood, panic attack, nightmare, major character death, xreader (this is how i'm coping okay?), i'm delulu and gonna feed my fellow fandom siblings delusions, if i missed any please let me know!

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: as mentioned in the warnings, this contains spoilers for episode 15 so please if you don't want spoilers don't read. i wrote this simply because is how i'm choosing to cope until the next episode airs. i hope everyone out there is doing okay (in a general sense, i know so many of us are fucking mad). i hope this can help feed delusions or just maybe bring comfort.

summary: being separated from your team, your family, is hard enough... add in a deadly super virus and cctv cameras to give you a perfect view of them, and it's going to haunt you in ways you may never expect

Your fingers dug into Buck’s turn out. Your shaking and gasping cries merged with his screams, desperate prayers vibrating against his arm.

His throat hurt. It was raw and felt like it was bleeding, a metallic taste building up on his tongue. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

This couldn’t be it. This can’t be happening. Bobby’s not supposed to die.

No! No… Bobby was fine. He had been right behind Buck as they were leaving. He made it out.

He was walking and talking, barking out orders like it was breathing.

Bobby was breathing.

Now… Now he was what?

Now he was pacing around a room, alone. Professing his love to Athena and pleading with her to believe he didn’t want this. He was using every ounce of his strength to fight away any doubt in her heart. He was apologizing. Buck could still hear how he apologized to you as you were drug away from your attempts to pry the door open.

Now he was crawling on the floor, his organs beginning to fail as he coughed up blood – red splatters decorating the ash covered floor. He was sweating, body feverish as his immune system kept trying to save him.

But nothing can save him…

Now he’s dying. Praying on his knees until blood filled his mouth like a fatal elixir, a final communion. Blood was coating his tongue and teeth, staining his lips crimson as his head fell to the table and his chest slowed to a stop.

Now he was in a body bag… and Buck-

– jolted awake, a raw cry straining his vocal cords as he gripped the duvet in his lap.

“Buck? Buck! Evan!” He knew that voice – that soft, gentle voice. “Hey, hey, baby it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Gentle and warm hands cradled his face, tilting it up as thumbs wiped the tears away. He can barely make out anything through the tears and the panic scrambling his brain.

But those eyes… He knows those eyes. They’re safe. They’re home.

They’re you.

His entire body was shaking. Sweat dripped down his back, leaving goosebumps as the AC cooled his hot skin. Tears shone on his face in the dim lamplight, more spilling over his lash line to pool on your thumbs. His chest ached, it felt like he was trying suck in air from an empty oxygen tank.

“Breathe, Ev’. Breathe for me.”

He hit his chest to communicate that he was trying. Each gulp of air wheezed into his windpipe, barely giving him enough to speak. “I-I can’t…”

You nodded, moving his arms around you and pressing his hands flat against your back. “You can. You just gotta follow me, baby.”

He tried, he really tried. But his chest felt too tight, air snagged in his throat, scraping along what felt like open wounds lining his esophagus. All before getting forced out in broken, strangled sobs.

You only smiled softly at him, the expression warm and encouraging. Your thumbs brushed his cheeks gently, being careful not to rub his cheeks raw as your exhales cooled them. His hands were desperate and hard on your back, gripping at your sleep shirt as he tried to follow your breathing.

Neither of you knew how long it took before his chest expanded fully again. A full breath of air, accented by the scent of your shampoo, filled his lungs. He swallowed, nodding against you as he began to calm down.

You tilted your head, the movement small as you pushed his curl back from his damp forehead. There was no doubt this panic attack was the result of a nightmare. They weren’t uncommon in this line of work, but only a few brought on panic attacks.

Your hand rested at the back of his head, the other gently resting on the side of his neck. “What happened, Buck? What did you see?”

The question made his throat cinch up again, fresh waves of tears falling down his cheeks. He opened his mouth and the words tumbled out in broken, sob-ridden babbles.

You gently shushed him after a few moments, soothing the ache with the tender caress of your hands carding through his hair. His tears are hot against your skin as you tilted his chin up with your thumb. “Sweetheart, I need you to slow down.”

You weren’t upset with him, or frustrated in the slightest. If anything… you were scared and just wanted to help.

Buck swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to control himself. You pressed your lips to his head and gently rocked you both. It was a little awkward in this position, but all you cared about was making sure he was okay.

You pulled back to look at him, your hand moving back to his cheek to brush away the tears.

His eyes remained downcast, staring at where your knees pressed into his thighs. He gripped your shirt again as a soft cry fell from his lips.

“The lab…”

He felt you tense at the words. Your hands paused in their movements just long enough for him to catch it before you went right back to soothing him.

A pang of guilt hit deep in his heart.

“We-we had just got Hen and Chimney out, and everything was fine. But as I turned to Cap… he-” Buck bit his quivering lip, his eyes remaining fixated on your point of contact, not wanting to see the heartbreak in your eyes as he told you again what had happened in the damned lab. He hated to make you relive it, relive probably the worst day of your life. He wanted to take it back, take all of it back… but he kept going, knowing you wouldn’t just let him go back to sleep.

“He locked himself in… the hose line to his tank was torn in the explosion, he had been sick the whole time and no one knew. He sacrificed himself for Chimney… he’s gone.”

His voice cracked, sobs sending his trembling frame into your lap. Apologies tumbled past his lips and rumbled against your sternum.

Your heart broke, frame rattling with the devastating cries of your boyfriend. You planted kisses on his head and rubbed his back. “Oh Evan, honey… it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not! He’s gone!” He pulled back swiftly, nearly headbutting you in the process. “Nothing is okay! How will it ever be okay?”

You held his face, fingers gently curling around his jaw to get him to look at you. “Baby, that was just a nightmare. He’s okay. He’s with Athena at their temporary apartment.”

Buck’s eyes met yours, his crystal blue eyes surrounded by red as his brow furrowed in confusion. “W-what? That-that’s impossible there was only one cure and we used that on Chimney. Bobby couldn’t have…” He trailed off, his voice giving way as he looked at you with pure desperation to understand.

Your thumbs rubbed under his eyes, tracing comforting crescents there. You couldn’t help the tears that stung your own eyes or how your lip quivered as you shook your head. “Baby, dad’s line was never compromised. His equipment was intact. He’s okay, I promise you.”

“But-”

You shushed him gently, adjusting how you were sitting to hold him. “I know… I know it felt real. Dreams like that always do. And it’s wild how, despite knowing the truth, your brain can twist reality so intricately that you wake up wondering which is which. Scared that the good life was the dream and the nightmare is your life…”

Buck sniffled, a small sound escaping his lips. His head was throbbing, pulsing alongside his heart as it crossed wires and memories. He was half-awake trying to make it all make sense.

“C’mon,” you said softly, sniffling as you kissed his damp forehead. You slipped out of the bed, grabbing Buck’s zip-up hoodie before pulling him to his feet. “Put this on and find your shoes.”

“Honey-”

“We’re going over there, right now.”

Your words held a sense of authority, leaving no room for argument or questioning. Not that Buck needed to question you, he trusted you more than he trusted anyone.

The drive across town was a blur. Street lights and business signs merged together, nothing but bright neon streaks that went by too fast for anyone to process properly.

Buck was fighting to stay awake, to pull himself out of his dream fog and focus. He felt stuck, constantly trying to decipher dream from reality.

A gentle squeeze to his hand felt like he was sucked back into his body. Everything around him clears, all becoming separate entities rather than a multi-colored blob. He could hear the low hum of the radio, the ambient sounds filling the space of the car in substitute of his voice.

Your lips brushed his knuckles as you reached across your body to put the car in park. “We’re here.” You could feel his hand trembling in yours just before you let go to exit the car.

He quickly got out after you, rounding the car and reaching for your hand again.

He needed it. He needed to be grounded.

You both walked in, nodding to the doorman as you walked right past him to the elevator.

After you got in and pressed the button you turned to Buck. He was bouncing on his toes, his unoccupied hand restless at his side.

“Baby, c’mere,” you said softly, tugging on his hand before wrapping your arms around him in a proper hug.

He immediately returned it, his arms pinning you to his chest desperately.

His voice was raspy as he spoke. “I’m so scared…”

“I know, Ev’... I know. But I promise, he’s okay. You’ll see for yourself soon, I swear it.”

The elevator slowed to a stop and you pulled apart as the doors opened. You took his hand again, gripping it tightly as you walked down the hall to your parents door.

Your knuckles rapped on the door in a rhythm that would signal to whoever was awake that it was you. Buck brought the concept up to Bobby back when you both began dating. It was just a silly little thing you did as a family, nothing serious.

But the sound of it made Buck’s stomach sink with anxiety.

What if Bobby would never hear that again? What if Buck would never hear Bobby knock like that again?

What if-

“Y/n? Buck?”

You smiled at Athena softly, a hint of an apology in it. “Hi, Athena…”

She wrapped her robe around her, yawning as she ushered you both inside. “It’s two in the morning, baby, what’re you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Her voice was laced with sleep and you almost felt bad for waking her up but there was a glass of water on the counter. She had been awake for a few minutes when you knocked.

Buck wiped at his eyes with his free hand as he squeezed yours.

You returned the gesture, rubbing your own eyes as you spoke.

“We umm… we need-”

“Bobby…” Buck’s frayed voice rattled through the kitchen, his shoulders dropping as if the strings keeping him so tense had been cut.

You and Athena looked up to see your dad walk out of the bedroom, stretching as he walked into the kitchen.

“Buck? Y/n? What’s going on? Everything okay?” He was slowly coming around to the idea of being awake at such an ungodly hour as he noticed the look on Buck’s face.

“Buck? What’s wrong?”

Without saying anything, Buck launched his 6’2” frame at your dad, curling into him like a child. He pressed his face into Bobby’s shoulder, crying in relief.

You noticed Athena glance at you from the corner of your eye as Bobby looked at you, hoping for an explanation.

You swallowed, arms wrapping around yourself as you leaned against the counter. “A nightmare… about the lab incident.”

Bobby gripped Buck tighter, realizing that being the only one not stuck in there must have taken a bigger toll on Buck than he thought.

Athena rubbed your arm, extending a comforting hand to you. Seeing Buck reacting so viscerally like this had to be affecting you too, she wanted you to know that you weren’t alone.

You smiled at her appreciatively, resting your head on her shoulder as Buck pulled back from the hug.

“It-it felt so real… you died, Bobby. I-I thought we lost you.”

A deep frown pulled at your dad’s lips, his brow creasing as he gripped Buck’s shoulders.

“It was just a dream, son,” he said, pulling Buck back into a hug. “Everyone made it out. Everyone’s okay. I’m okay, and I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon.”

a/n: thank you so much for reading! i hope this could bring some comfort in, it was a huge comfort to write, and that it can hold you over until may 1...

and thank you to @startrekfangirl2233 for giving this a look over for me a giving some feedback!

also, happy easter to those who celebrate! i hope you're all having a great day!

tags (you can also follow @vinnys-recordcollection and turn on notifications ;p): @lovinglyeternal @bradleybeachbabe @achilles-rage @kmc1989 (tagged a few i thought might like it - apologies for anyone i missed, i gotta sort out taglists 😅)

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