Chapter Text
It doesn’t start as ‘a thing’… not really…
Or at least, that is what Tim would claim if anyone ever tried to call it that… ‘a thing’.
He would shut it down immediately, with that flat, unimpressed look of his, like the very suggestion is a waste of time. The kind of look that ends conversations before they even fully begin.
It starts the way a lot of things between them do. By accident, with a layer of stubbornness over it, and with Tim insisting he is fine and does not need help when he very clearly could benefit from it.
Mixed with Lucy, as usual, inserting herself into his business without being asked, without having any real reason to, other than the fact that she has a kind and intelligent heart that does not know how not to help him.
And maybe, if he were being honest, because she cares in a way that is hard to ignore.
It is a pattern. It has always been an… annoying at times… pattern.
Their dynamic goes all the way back to Lucy’s rookie year, when Tim was her stern, strict, sharp TO. A constant, grumpy pain in her ass who somehow always knew exactly how to push her, and terrorize her, and hold her to a standard he never once lowered, shaping her into the minimum of a passable cop.
He never made it easy for her, he was not supposed to, and even though it was a pain in her ass, she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way looking back at it now.
Both of them equally know exactly how to get under each other’s skin… and, more importantly, how to push each other forward when it actually counts.
And Lucy, for reasons that did not make sense to him back then, she never learned how to leave well enough alone… even when he gave her direct orders to do exactly that…
She had a way of just knowing how to butt in… much to his benefit though…
So no, this wasn’t ‘a thing’, it just was…
- - -
Tim Bradford can read.
That is not the issue. He can read, and he can remember what he reads. That is the fact. That is what he tells himself, what he has always told himself, even when the truth has never been quite that simple.
It is easier to say it like that, making it more controlled.
It was even a little complicated… because the written word has never come easily to him. Not in the way it seems to for other people.
He will sit there with a page in front of him, read it once, then again, then a third time, sitting with it far longer than most people would need, going over the same information again and again, and somehow it still does not stick in his brain the way it should.
It blurs. His brain likes to pick and choose only fragments of the reading to decide on keeping and discards the rest, as if he had never read it in the first place, without asking him.
It is frustrating in a way he has never quite had the patience to sit with. So he does what he has always done. He adapts by leaning into what works.
Physical activity… with the exhausting movement, strain, and control he craves.
That becomes the pattern early on.
He reads a little, pushes through as much as he can, then he gets up. Goes for a run. Hits a punching bag until his knuckles ache. Drops to the floor and burns through push-ups until his arms shake. Anything to force his body into focus, to compensate for what his brain refuses to cooperate with.
It gives him something solid, and that is something he can control.
Then he goes back. Reads again. Retains more this time. Not all of it, but enough to make progress. It becomes a system. Not perfect, maybe not even healthy, but reliable.
Tim Bradford does not have problems. He handles his own issues. He relies only on himself. He figures things out on his own, the same way he has had to his entire life. By not asking for help, because he does not need it.
He formed the routine on his own. Because needing help was never really an option to begin with…
He learned that from a very young age…
*-* -* -*
Sometime during his childhood, before he had anything to help him read and actually process what he had read…
There had been this one book…
Middle school… maybe early high school. He does not remember exactly when, just that it had been there. A sci-fi book he picked up after stumbling across it…
'Infinity Entangled: The Moon' by Grant Lawson
Maybe it was the title, maybe the summary, or maybe the cover… which, at that age… going through puberty… possibly being a little... horny… might have had just enough... cleavage… on it to catch his attention… Tho that is a reason he would never admit out loud…
But whatever the reason was for him picking it up… He was soon thankful he had…
One night, after his dad decided to teach him a lesson… for something small, probably some barely a mistake that shouldn’t have mattered, but to his dad it did… it ended the way those nights usually did.
Yelling, screaming, then with a beer bottle smashing into the side of his ribcage after it was thrown at him, glass shattering onto the floor around his feet.
Tim made it to his room fast after that. Even back then, part of Tim thought leaving made him weak. His father yelling out that he was less of a man… like he should have stayed and taken it… taken more of a punishment without moving... And most of the time, he did
But some nights… despite his great efforts… some nights still just got to him.
He sat on the edge of his bed, back tight, hands in fists, jaw locked, definitely not crying.
Tim Bradford did not cry.
Even if his side was hurt and bruised, even if everything in him felt like he was going to burst…
Anger sat heavy under his skin, burning within him… all that raised adrenaline with nowhere to go. And tonight instead of going back out there… instead of making things worse by fighting back...
Tim reached for that book.
He did not expect much from it. If anything, he expected it to be like everything else he had tried to read… slow, frustrating, something he would have to force his way through.
But that night… it wasn’t like that.
The pages moved easily. The words stuck… actually processed. The chapters flowed in a way they never had before, like his brain just… cooperated for once… like he didn’t have to fight through another thing tonight.
And he did not question it… he just let himself enjoy it. He needed something to enjoy.
Then the next night, when he needed an out from his father again… he picked it back up… and read a little bit more.
He did that again… and again…
Using that frustration and adrenaline to read the book with an ease… while the book, in turn, eased that frustration… steadied the adrenaline running through him.
Another night… another day… until it became a consistent routine.
Even after he finished it… he kept going back to it. Not other books, just this one…the one he enjoyed.
Because he already knew it… knew the ending… knew what to expect… and he liked that… liked something being planned… predictable… when nothing else in his life was.
Because there was nothing new for his brain to fight through… nothing new to learn… nothing new to hold onto…
He had it memorized… and that made it manageable.
So he stuck with it, a pattern that worked…
A pattern he kept going back to. Something that got him through those years… stuck in that miserable dark house… having to help and protect his sister and mom.
When no one watched out for him, when no one protected him...
The book was there...
When he couldn't ask for help from anyone, because he was always meant to be a man, the protector and not a child, and when no one had ever even offered him help, he had never really learned to ask for it...
So he turned to one of the only places he felt safe from it all, which was the reliable judgment-free space inside those pages.
The book that helped… Him...
Until he could leave that place behind… Until he could start something else… Something that was actually his to build.
A life… And a job… That were to be his…
*-*-*-*
It is during his rookie year that something shifts. Not completely, not enough to break his pattern, his routine, his wall. But enough to slightly change them.
That is when he meets Isabel.
They were in the same class in the academy, then assigned to the same station, and from there it happened naturally. They connected and got… close.
At first, it was just proximity, then it was familiarity… and then it became…
Something romantic, even…
And with that comes something Tim is not used to. Letting someone in. Not all the way, not even close. He was very much still closed off, guarded, with a huge wall of untapped boundaries he hadn’t even touched the surface of, walls built long before she ever met him that would stay up long after they divorced, though at the time he might not have even realized that.
He did love her deeply, he would have done anything for her, and yet in the end he only let her in enough… only enough to see the parts he thought were surface-level good.
Enough to share space, enough to share time, and because of the job, enough to study together.
It starts simple. Going over material side by side. Then it turns into something more structured, more intentional. A system, just like everything else in Tim’s life.
Mostly it was just the two of them. Sometimes another rookie from their class joins in… Lopez.
Angela Lopez, who is too sharp, too observant, too nosy for his taste. Always pushing, always poking, always finding exactly where to prod to get a reaction out of him. It never ends with her. And if he ever pushes back, it would never stop her. If anything, it encourages her.
Tim tolerates her…
Barely…
Though somewhere under that is the recognition that she is just as driven, just as stubborn as he is…
“Maybe she will transfer once her probationary year is up.” He says it once, almost to himself, maybe Isabel had heard him.
Thinking of that as the logical outcome, like most people, Lopez would just eventually move on, leaving him hopefully with his sanity. But at the time, not knowing they were stuck with each other for the entirety of their careers, Angela even becoming his ‘BFF’.
But back then… the system works.
They spend hours at the gym, because of course they do. Tim cannot sit still long enough to just read, and Isabel figures that out quickly. Adapts to it in a way that feels almost too easy. She’ll read it out loud because she, too, has to memorize all this with him.
He runs on the treadmill while she reads chapters out loud. He works through drills, hits a dummy, keeps moving while her voice fills in the gaps his brain struggles to hold onto.
Then they switch, passing each other questions and scenarios. Back and forth until the material starts to stick, until procedures and codes become something they can both rely on without thinking too hard about it, it becomes background knowledge.
And for Tim, that is… enough.
Enough to let someone in just a little. Enough to make the process easier without sacrificing the independence he clings to.
Because the rest of the job makes sense to him. The hands-on work, the instinct, the physicality of it. That is where he thrives, and he’s undoubtedly good at it.
That is where he feels certain… on top of his game, patrolling the streets.
The books are just something he has to get through…
- - -
Years later, he runs into the same problem again… Books.
New material, larger texts, and more to memorize in less time, all leading up to another exam he cannot afford to fail if he wants a promotion.
The main one is a textbook, Split-Second Leadership: Leading Men in the Line of Duty.
And of course, because nothing ever works in his favor when it comes to this, it is out of print.
With no audiobooks and no digital shortcut, because he checks… more than once.
He checks at work for a precinct version, then checks online at home, he checks again just in case something changed. It didn’t… so he’ll have to read it…
Which leaves him with one obvious solution.
If he does not have an audiobook or time outside of the hours of the job to try and read it… he’ll come up with an efficient solution…
Enter the person who has to follow his instructions, during her training, and to the T might he add… his rookie…
Lucy Chen.
It happens in the shop before there first call. From the drivers seat Tim hands her the book, like it is the most obvious solution in the world. Lucy already sensing where this is going takes the book.
“If i have to suffer so do you. So, you’re going to read this out loud to me between calls. Only way I’m going to get it memorized in time”
Lucy leans back slightly in the passenger seat, already unimpressed, already gearing up to tease him, flipping threw the books pages.
“Or I could drive and you could read it to yourself.”
“Nice try, Start reading.” he tells her, like it is no different than any other order.
He has her read to him during their shifts in the shop, framing it as a practical decision. It gives her something to do, keeps her occupied, keeps her from taking personal business in the shop, and helps him get through the material faster. Also, if he has to suffer through the book’s nonsense, so should she… even if she claims to enjoy it.
That is how he presents it, and that is as far as he is willing to explain.
Even if her teasing pushes his buttons more than he would ever admit.
“No, I memorise best when I hear it.” He might acknowledge. He does not admit that it makes a big difference though.
As far as he is concerned, he does not need help. Not from anyone, and especially not from a rookie. This is just efficiency; this is the fastest way to get through the needed material in the time he has.
“Really”
“Yeah”
“Huh” she lets out more to herself, and definitely not to Tim.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Boot.” Darn, she thinks.
“You might have a learning difference.” She mumbles, slightly quietly.
“A what?”
“Technically, It’s classified as a disability. But it really just means that you’re wired to process information differently. In your case, through… hearing, rather than reading.”
“I don’t have a learning disability.”
Lucy, of course, does not buy it, dispite the drop it tone.
“A lot of people have them. I bet Isabel helped you in the academy, read through the materials with you and stuff.”
“We’re not talking about this.”
Even when he tells her to drop it, he’ll read it himself… she does the exact opposite. She digs, using her knowledge from college to push deeper. Gets into his business in a way that should be out of line, that would be out of line with anyone else…
But this is Lucy…
And this is Tim…
And this is definitely not ‘a thing’…
And so she keeps digging.
At some point, she even reaches out to Isabel, who did indeed help him thew the academy. Which is absolutely none of her business, and something Tim would shut down immediately if he knew.
But he does not know… and so Lucy gains confirmation for exactly what she was looking for.
How he studied, how he learned, how he adapted, how he relied on movement… physical stimulation, to actually retain the information he reads.
It clicks for her after that. The way he processes information is not random; it is consistent with something she recognizes. Tim just never thought or wanted to put a name to it, but Lucy does…
Kinesthetic learner.
Then, without asking, because Tim would never admit to needing help, and because Lucy would get shot down if she asked… so she just does…
She records the textbook herself.
Chapter by chapter. Line by line. Turning something frustrating and rigid into something he can actually use productively. Something he can use while he is moving, while he is working, while he is doing what actually helps his brain keep up.
Her voice steady, clear, patient… like she is right there with him even when she is not.
- - -
It happens later…
Tim is in the station gym after a long shift, gloves already wrapped, body moving on instinct more than thought as he works the heavy bag. The sound of impact fills the space, steady and familiar, something he can disappear into when everything else feels too loud or too slow.
The door opens behind him.
He does not stop.
“Traning for the rematch with Nico?” Lucy’s voice cuts in like she has always been part of the rhythm of this place.
“Ah, we got him in the end.” Pausing, it pulls his attention to her as he slowly angles his body to turn.
She steps further inside, walking toward him with almost no hesitation. Like she already knows where this is going.
Then she lifts something slightly in her hand.
“Here.”
“Whats this?” he asks, confused, taking the MP3 player and headphones from her hand.
“It is Split-Second Leadership: Leading Men in the Line of Duty, the audio book.”
That makes him stop completely.
“The book’s out of print, theres no audio book.” He says it like it is fact. Like it ends the conversation before it even starts.
Lucy does not argue the premise. She just meets it.
“Yeah, Which is why I recorded one for you. Uh... Listen I…I talked to Isabel, and from what she said, its clear that your a kinesthetic learner, which just means that you need to listen while you’re benign active in order to absorb things. There’s no shame in it. Really.” There is a beat after she finishes.
He looks at her for a second longer than he means to. Like he is waiting for her to backtrack on this kindness.
She does not, she instead gose on to add, “Honestly, its probably why you excel at being a cop…”
And then she shifts as she admitted that. Then as that was all she came here to say, already stepping back toward the door, “Uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.’
“Yeah…. Thanks”
She leaves it there, with it not being ‘a thing’, there was no need for him to define it or understand it out loud.
He looks down at the earphones in his hand for a moment. Then, slowly, he puts them in, and presses play.
Her voice fills the space again. But this time it is different. Not improvised. Not scattered. Not tied to presence or timing. Just steady. Structured. Built to stay.
He turns back to the bag and starts moving again, and now something layered underneath it, as the information is actually proccesed in his brain.
- - -
It… it makes a difference immediately…
With the audiobook its more than effective ,and it’s… helpful.
It is the reason he finishes the book on time. The reason the material actually sticks. And it matters in a way that has very little to do with the exam.
And it means more than he is ever going to say out loud. More than he will even fully admit to himself…
Because it is not just about the book…
But Lucy…
Someone who saw something he refused to acknowledge, and instead of calling him out on it, she found a way to meet him where he was.
She did so because that’s the stubborn kindness she just radiates, so blinding in a way it’s hard to look away from… even for Tim…
Especially for Tim.
And that becomes the foundation…
For something that, later, turns into some of the moments they will both hold onto, whether they admit it or not.
Even if they never call it what it is….
A beginning of ‘a thing’ thats farther in the future than they could have ever imagined…
- - -