Chapter Text
The first day on the job Tim Bradford had asked her why she wanted to be a cop. It was so straightforward that she wouldn’t trust it now, but she had been hopeful for a normal experience on her first day.
Lucy hadn’t been ready to give the truthful petty answer (a lifetime of approval seeking and rebellious phases culminating in the ultimate fuck you she could think of paired with the need to be doing-running-moving -seeking-chasing-living she was only just finding for herself after dropping out of college when everything came to a head) and she didn’t want to give the answer she’d given John’s camera a few weeks prior about how it was “meaningful” even if it was true – so she started talking about her therapist parents.
“I’ve been shot! Where are you Boot?” His words hit like a slap, she froze for a minute then looked around for a street sign.
“Now I’m dead. It’s your fault. Get out.”
By the time she’d realized it was a test she’d already failed. Her heart sank as the adrenaline from the fake emergency passed.
Lucy was pissed off at the test, humiliated and ashamed that she failed - was still failing - shaky with the adrenaline spike and then absolutely terrified of what might have happened. He hadn’t been shot - but what if he had been?
It was certainly a memorable way to learn about how abrupt this job could be, even training was like dropping into freefall in the open ocean rather than gliding into the deep end from more familiar waters. (So why did she still think this was him being kind? Why did she still think that this was shallow waters? Maybe he hadn’t given her floaties but this felt like a life jacket.)
It made her significantly more aware of her surroundings, it made her think through what information she’d need to give to first responders (coworkers at the station chasing down a subject via GROUT or EMTs trying to save a victim or anything else) and how to keep a level head. It was a good test that made her a better cop in a low stakes situation… even if she still wanted to strangle him for it.
It also gave her her first real taste of a Tim Test and what riding with Tim Bradford might actually be like. She made herself hyper aware of every move, every pattern, every oddity he had trying to anticipate and exceed every expectation.
John and Jackson can call her an overachiever all they want; she refused to be less than perfect. Lucy knew that there will always be a voice in the back of her head telling her that it isn’t enough - that it will never be enough - and she refuses to let some macho asshole add to that voice - especially when the first good word she ever heard from him makes her feel like that. Therapy might make her self aware of her raging mommy issues but being aware of that doesn’t change how she responds to criticism and praise. It wasn’t like her mother was making any effort to change it after all
It was a damn shame Tim hadn’t paid that same attention to her answer before he’d been “shot”; it would have saved him a lot of confusion when she started to notice other things about him.
Tim always sat on the edge of the bench at lunch with the other TOs or at the back most position for individual seats. He always sat to her left when they had to sit next to each other and if he couldn’t he’d rather stand. He never sought out medical attention unless he physically could not stand or was prompted by someone else. Lucy pushed hard on that habit since he’d have ripped her a new one for not seeking out medical attention after taking on a biker gang .
There was a power surge one day that had apparently hit his neighborhood and messed up his alarm and he was only 10 minutes early not 15 - he was grumpy for days and he chased high risk calls with a frantic energy that didn’t let up. Tim had used significantly more military slang that day and was downright silent in roll call for the next week even though he was there 30 minutes early.
Tim knew she was aware of some of things - seating preferences were obvious even if he didn’t outright say anything - but there were plenty of little details he didn’t think she’d notice. His best friend, his sister, his rock Angela was gunning hard for detective and had known him a hell of a lot longer and had maybe picked up on half of it - why would his rookie find out these things?
He knew she found him physically attractive, he was also aware he found her attractive. That wasn’t hard to see but it was easy to ignore. They worked an incredibly physical job and it showed. But the lingering looks on his knuckles after taking on a biker gang when he was too angry to think about anything except making it all stop for a second? The fudged paperwork when he signed out what even he could admit was entirely too much Narcan for Isabel? The conscious effort not to come up behind him unless she’d already announced herself? Always staying in sight after getting shot at past code 4 and well into the paperwork? He didn’t know what she saw that made her want to do it and he didn’t know why it was so soothing.
He just knew to be thankful for it.