Chapter Text
The bright LA sun beats down on the Mid-Wilshire tennis courts, plaguing every victim on the premise with dehydration and exhaustion. Lucy Chen has sucked her water bottle dry, just counting down the minutes until practice is over.
She watches 14-year-old Adaline West, the daughter of her best friend, run across the courts as she chases a small green ball back and forth. Adaline’s — or Andie’s, as Lucy knew her — movements are swift and calculated, just like her father's. Lucy cheers loudly from the bleachers every time her racquet coincides with the ball, despite the fact that the other parents exchange questionable glances.
“Aunt Lucy, you don’t have to cheer. It’s just practice,” Andie explains as she takes a swig from her own bottle of water once practice is over. Noticing that her aunts is empty, she gladly hands her own over.
“I know,” Lucy confirms, smiling as she takes a sip from Andie's water. “But you’re just so good! I can’t help it.”
“Come on,” Andie rolls her eyes with a smile. “I’m nowhere as near as good as that other girl.” She turns back, watching her opponent receive a high-five from her coach. “Ivie is like… the best player in the club.”
“Seems to me like you blew her out of the water,” Lucy shrugs.
“Of course it does. You know nothing about tennis,” the teenager points out. “But I appreciate the support anyway.”
“Good,” Lucy nods. “Now, come on, Adaline. Let’s get home and grub on some dinner.”
“Oh, I’ll never say no to some dinner,” Andie cheers as she slings her bag over her shoulder.
“Just like your father,” Lucy sighs, shaking her head.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“You did good out there today,” Tim Bradford tells his daughter as he slides a plate of oven-baked Sea bass across the dining room table. It lands right in front of Ivie.
“Thanks, dad,” the girl smiles proudly. “Coach says I actually have a chance at placing at the tournament this weekend.”
“Of course you do,” he scoffs. “You’re a Bradford.”
“And I’ve worked super hard,” Ivie adds on.
“That you have, Ives,” her father agrees. “On another note, how is school going?”
The young girls’ face falls immediately.
“Oh no,” Tim takes a deep breath.
“No, no,” Ivie laughs. “School’s going good. For the most part. I’m… sort of struggling in my physics class.”
“Well, physics is a hard class,” Tim points out. “Maybe we can get a tutor.”
“No!” Ivie exclaims immediately, barely letting the words escape her fathers lips.
Tim sighs as he watches his daughter's blood pressure rise. He chastises himself, as she inherited his same stubborn pride. She had trouble asking for help, just as he did. “Come on, Ives. A tutor isn’t a bad thing.”
“Yes it is,” she argues. “It’s a sign of weakness. I just need to study more.”
“Okay,” he remarks, albeit skeptically. “But if you bomb the next test, we’re getting you a tutor.”
“Fine,” she gruffs. “But that’s not going to happen.”
“If you say so,” Tim shakes his head. He watches as his daughter stabs her fork into the already-dead fish, as if it’s going to start flapping away. He sees his own stubborn nature staring back at him, and he has to bite back a laugh.
She truly was his daughter, there was no doubt about that.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“So, Aunt Lucy, are you ready for your first day at Mid-Wilshire?” Andie asks through a mouthful of pizza.
“I’m nervous,” the woman admits. “But also excited. North Hollywood was great, but Mid-Wilshire has a stellar reputation.”
“Well, I think that they’re lucky to have you,” the young girl smiles.
“Thanks, Andie,” Lucy sighs. “I just hope they agree.”
Starting at a new station, and as a Sergeant, at that, wasn’t going to be easy for Lucy. She knew she’d have to fight for their respect, but she was ready for the challenge. After all, she was doing it all for Andie. And Jackson.
“You know,” Andie says, “you really didn’t have to move down here.”
“I know that,” Lucy remarks. “But I didn’t want to displace you. Especially after…”
After her dad was shot and killed on duty.
Andie West was the proud daughter of Jackson West, another officer in the LAPD. He and Lucy had met in the academy, and stayed close friends when they began their rookie years at different stations. In fact, the two had been roommates for a short time.
When Jackson was killed, Lucy didn’t have time to mope around. Instead, she packed up her whole life and moved to Mid-Wilshire so that she could care for Andie, his sweet teenage daughter. Lucy and Andie had a good relationship; she was a big role-model for the young girl, so it was unsurprising that Jackson had detailed Lucy as a possible legal guardian for Andie in his will. With hesitation, she stepped in to care for her, just as she promised Jackson.
“Well, there’s no need to thank me,” Lucy carries on before she absolutely kills the mood. “This is good for both of us.”
“I really hope so,” Andie says before shoving the rest of the pizza crust into her mouth.
When she looks at her niece, an uncanny resemblance of her best friend stares back at her. Andie was blessed with Jackson’s bright eyes and big smile, a carbon copy of her father. It sort of panged in Lucy’s stomach, a haunting reminder that her best friend was gone. But at the same time, it was a bright reminder that Jackson’s legacy would live on inside of Andie.
“Want more?” Lucy asks, noticing the empty plate in front of Andie.
“No thanks,” the girl shakes her head. “I could go for some ice cream, though.”
“Well,” Lucy taps her index finger along her chin. “I think we’re all out here, but we can go to an ice cream shop, if you’re up for it?”
“Sure,” the teenager perks up. She immediately raises herself from the table, taking both her own and her Aunt’s plate.
“I’ll just wash up, and then we can go,” Lucy promises, and Andie nods as she clears the rest of the table.
“What a perfect celebration of my last night of freedom,” Lucy chuckles as she pulls into the parking lot of Nevin’s, a small desert shop down the road from their apartment.
“And my last night before I go on a diet for my tournament,” Andie comments.
“Jeez,” Lucy scoffs. “I never knew how tough of a regime tennis commanded.”
“It’s not too bad,” Andie assures her aunt. “I just like to keep myself healthy, so I have the maximum amount of energy possible."
“Tell ya what,” Lucy begins. “I’ll cook us something nice and nutritional tomorrow. No takeout.”
“That’s not necessary,” Andie tells her. “It’s your first day of work! You’ll probably be tired.”
“Nonesense,” Lucy insists. “I could use a couple of vegetables in my system, anyway.”
“Okay,” Andie agrees. “I can’t wait to try whatever you cook up.”
“Before then, let’s go throw a sugar bomb in our bodies,” Lucy cheers as she swings the door to Nevin’s open.
Though, instead of immediate excitement, Andie’s face falls the minute she scans the store.
“Wha- what’s wrong?” Lucy stammers.
Andie carefully motions over to a pair sitting at a nearby table, both of them snacking on a box of donuts. “That’s Ivie Bradford, the girl I was playing against at practice. She’s one of the best in the club, and she’s totally going to demolish me this weekend.”
“Don’t say that!” Lucy immediately chastises. “I saw you out there today. You totally underestimate yourself.”
“And the worst part is,” Andie carries on, ignoring her guardian's words of wisdom, “she’s literally the nicest girl I’ve ever met. So I can’t even hate her.”
“You’re acting like that’s a bad thing,” Lucy laughs.
“Whatever,” Andie scoffs. “Let’s just get some ice cream.”
While Andie was a typically calm kid, she was a teenager, and Lucy knew it wouldn’t be sunshines and rainbows every day. Though, the spots of attitude never ceased to surprise her. Jackson was cool and collected, always patient with the world around him. It was one of Lucy's favorite qualities, and had graciously been passed down to his daughter. Lucy knew it was somewhere, buried deep between the layers in her teenage mind.
A frown is painted across Andie’s face the whole time, her eyes stuck on the wall in front of her.
“You know,” Lucy says eventually, “I’ve never seen someone so unhappy while eating ice cream.”
“Sorry,” Andie sets down her spoon, shaking her head. “Tennis just gets me riled up.”
“I get that,” Lucy nods in agreement. She herself has a competitive nature, and definitely didn’t miss that aspect of high school. “Why don’t you go over and say hi to her? It might make you feel better.”
“I don’t really get how that would make me feel better,” Andie furrows her brow.
“Sometimes, talking with your opponent humanizes them. It’ll calm your nerves, reminding you that she’s a real person, too,” Lucy explains.
“Okay,” Andie shrugs. “I guess it can’t hurt to try.”
Reluctantly, she stands up and throws the empty cup of ice cream in the garbage before gently tapping on Ivie’s shoulder. The other young girl jolts at the sudden motion.
“Sorry!” Andie steps back with red cheeks. “Didn’t mean to scare you, Ivie.”
Ivie laughs as she regains her breath. “All good. How are you, Adaline? Nice match today.”
“I’m good, thanks,” the young girl remarks nervously. “And yeah. You’re a really good player.”
“You too,” Ivie winks. “You ready for this weekend?”
Andie takes a deep breath before responding. “I guess so. A little nervous, though.”
Lucy smiles as the girls engage in a short, yet distant conversation. While it’s extremely surface level, she notices her nieces shoulders relax as they carry on the discussion.
She then turns her eyes to the man sitting across Ivie, presumably her father. She is confident in her assumption, based on the fact he and Ivie shared the same color of dirty-blond hair, and unmistakably crystal blue eyes. His eyes are locked on his daughter, as if he’s engrossed in their dialogue.
On a limb, she takes a step towards him and holds out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lucy!”
It takes a moment for Tim to register that she is speaking to him. “Oh,” he says after a few seconds. He briefly shakes her hand before saying, “Tim.”
“Your… uh, your daughter is great at tennis. I don’t know much about it, but I watched her play today,” Lucy rambles on. Tim stares back at her like she’s putting on a one-woman-show at the local theater.
“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes, as if he’s studying her.
Sensing that he isn’t very interested in this conversation, Lucy steps back. “Hey, are you ready to go?” she asks Andie once the girls run out of pleasantries.
“Yeah,” Andie confirms, her wide eyes, thanking Lucy for rescuing her. She turns back to Ivie and says her final goodbye.
Lucy doesn’t miss the fact that Tim refrains from saying or motioning a goodbye to her. No ‘nice to meet you,’ or variation of the sorts. He just watches her carefully, as if she’s some kind of prey roaming around in a field of tall grass.
“Her dad’s kind of intense,” Lucy whispers as they climb back into her car.
“Oh, he’s the scariest man I’ve ever met,” Andie confirms. “All of the girls are terrified of him.”
“I could tell,” Lucy chuckles. Though, something about their interaction doesn’t sit well with her.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“You must be Sergeant Chen,” a voice calls out just as Lucy crosses the bullpen, still in her plain clothes. She had been here a couple of times on an assist, but it wasn’t enough for her to know where the locker rooms were.
“Yes,” she stops in her tracks as the man paces up to her. She peers at his name tag before holding out her hand. “And you must be Lieutenant Grey.”
“Looks like someone did her research,” he remarks as he shakes her hand.
“Just eager to get to know you all,” Lucy nods with a smile.
“It’s mutual,” the Lieutenant confirms. “The locker rooms are to your left. Roll call starts at ten.”
“Thank you very much, sir,” she tells him gratefully before heading into the locker rooms.
To put it nicely, the Mid-Wilshire division seems a lot more vintag e than North Hollywood. As opposed to the sleek, black lockers lining the walls at her old station, she’s standing next to blue hunks of metal, each one with its own series of dents and scrapes.
“Sergeant Chen?” a voice calls out nervously just as she shoves her bag into one of the dingy lockers. She whips her head around to find a young woman, already in uniform, standing behind her.
“Yes, hi,” Lucy says, collecting herself. She's glad to see another person in this room; the isolation was beginning to freak her out.
“I just wanted to introduce myself, before we get to roll call,” the woman says sweetly. “I’m Celina Juarez.”
“Nice to meet you, Celina,” Lucy smiles. She notices the fact that Celina is wearing long-sleeves, and a tie sits underneath her body camera. “You’re a rookie?”
“About to take my six-month exam,” she explains proudly. “Hopefully get rid of these sleeves.”
“I remember when I was a rookie,” Lucy laughs. “Me and the LA sun did not get along.”
“You can say that again,” Celina sighs. “Well, I’ll let you get back to changing. It was nice to meet you, Sergeant.”
“You too, Officer Juarez.”
A small grin appears across the Sergeant’s face as she pulls the stiff uniform up her leg. While she and Celina probably weren’t going to be the best of friends, given their chain of command, it was nice to know she had someone in her corner.
She runs her hands over the three stripes on her left shoulder, a gentle reminder of hard-earned credentials.
Thankfully, roll-call treats Lucy well. The Mid-Wilshire officers are receptive to her introduction, and a few go out of their way to introduce themselves, including John Nolan, Celina’s training officer.
“You all set to patrol, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Grey asks as the other officers clear out of the roll-call room.
“Yes sir,” Lucy nods. But before Grey can turn around, she blurts out, “I, uh… I remember being told that there was another Sergeant on this shift?”
“Oh yes. Today is his day off, but you'll get to meet Sergeant Bradford tomorrow,” Grey explains.
Sergeant Bradford. Where had she heard that name before?
“Sounds good,” she brushes past the skepticism. “Well, I should get out there.”
“Have a great first shift, Sergeant,” Grey waves before heading back into his office.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“So, how’s studying for your physics test going,” Tim asks his daughter. He and Ivie walk alongside each other, the girl holding the leash of their canine tightly in her right hand.
“It’s… going,” she sighs, her eyes fixated on the pavement below.
“Honey, a tutor is not a sign of weakness,” her father reminds her carefully. “If you ever change your mind-”
“I won’t, but thanks,” Ivie huffs.
Tim sighs, but doesn’t push any harder. She'll come to her senses eventually, he hopes.
“So, Dad,” Ivie begins, purely trying to fill the sweet LA silence. “Have you heard from Mom recently?”
Her question surely takes Tim by surprise. Ivie rarely asks about her mother; the girl always seemed content with just her dad, and the occasional girl talk from her Aunt Angela. “I- I haven’t. I’m sorry,” he sputters weakly.
Tim and Isabel had met in the academy, and were rookies together at Mid-Wilshire. Their strong friendship quickly morphed into something romantic. They fell fast and hard for each other, getting married within 2 years of knowing one another.
Once they graduated from the F.T.O. program, Tim decided that he wanted to become a training officer; he felt it paired well with his time as an army squad leader. Isabel, on the other hand, got roped into an undercover operation shortly after becoming a P2. One operation turned into 2, which turned into her becoming a rockstar UC. A practical living legend.
Though, after they had Ivie, Isabel spent more and more time out on field missions. She missed her daughter's first steps, first words, and everything else in between. Eventually, she just never came home. It wasn’t until a year later that Tim learned his wife had fallen in with the wrong people, and joined the drug-world as a consumer, instead of a cop.
It was devastating, of course, and Tim worried that he would never recover from her absence. But he had a three-year-old who depended on him, so he fixed himself up and dedicated himself to being the best father he could be.
Isabel would call every so often, each time she was forced into rehab by a friend or relative. She’d ask for money, or to see Ivie when things were going smoothly. At first, Tim obliged. But as Ivie grew older, she would get confused about seeing her mother only one or twice a year. So he kept Isabel at arms length, or rather, completely out of their lives, aside from the occasional phone call.
“It’s not a big deal,” Ivie shrugs it off. “I was just curious.”
“If I hear anything, I’ll let you know,” Tim promises, and she nods in understanding.
Suddenly, the dog begins to tug at the leash, sending Ivie flying forward by a few inches.
“Kojo!” she exclaims, jogging as she tries to keep up with him. For a smaller dog, he sure was fast. “Dad, Kojo’s going rogue again!”
“Here, give me the leash,” Tim laughs, and Ivie immediately hands it over. He gently pulls back on it, stopping Kojo in his tracks. Immediately getting the message, Kojo slows back down to the comfortable trotting pace.
“How do you do that?” the girl marvels, looking down at her now perfectly calm pup.
“You have to command respect,” Tim explains.
“He’s a dog,” Ivie rolls her eyes, having heard this speech about a million times before. “He doesn’t know what respect is.
“Trust me, Ives. He knows,” Tim asserts confidently, causing his daughter to giggle in that snarky, teenager way that he’s grown to hate.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
Following his day off, Tim returns to work with a refreshed mind. He greets Detectives Angela Lopez and Nyla Harper at their desks before heading into the locker rooms to change into his uniform.
He makes it to the roll call room just before the clock strikes eight, the rest of the officers still filing in with freshly brewed coffees in their hands. Though, through the corner of his eye he spots an unfamiliar presence standing by the podium. She’s turned around; all he can see is the neat bun tucked right above her neck, and the three white stripes on her shoulder.
He watches as Grey points at him, and when she whips herself around, a sense of amity rushes over him. Tim narrows his eyes, studying the astonished look on her face. And then it hits him: it’s the woman from Nevin’s, who tried to introduce herself. The girl she brought into the shop played tennis with Ivie.
“Sergeant Bradford, I’d like to introduce you to Sergeant Lucy Chen. She just transferred from North Hollywood,” Grey announces, ignoring the fact that they were both staring at each other with flushed cheeks.
She sticks her hand out cheerily, just as she had the other night. He shakes it firmly with a mere nod. “Welcome to Mid-Wilshire.” Though, his tone is anything but welcoming.
“Thank you, Sergeant.” She flashes him a quick smile, one that he doesn’t return. As a police officer, and a Sergeant at that, her constant state of buoyancy puzzles Tim. He chalks it up to it being her second day at the station; the life may not have been sucked out of her quite yet.
“How about you two ride together today?” the Lieutenant suggests, but Tim winces at the thought of spending his whole day with a woman talking his ear off.
“I think that’s counterproductive, having two sergeants together,” he claims. “She should ride with Thorsen.”
“Okay,” Grey shrugs, clearly without a care.
This time, Tim leads roll call and shoos everyone out the door in four minutes and twenty two seconds. Lucy keeps count.
“Thorsen. You’re with Chen today,” he tells a young officer in the second row before running out the door himself.
The officer, Lucy learns, joined the LAPD after being convicted, then exonerated, for the murder of his best friend during a semester abroad. Aaron Thorsen is bubbly, and engages in conversation with her as they patrol through the streets of Los Angeles.
“So,” she begins once they establish a comfortable rhythm, “what’s with Sergeant Bradford? Is he always like that?”
“You mean irrevocably grumpy? Yeah, yeah he is,” Aaron says through a deep breath. “He’s not all bad. Just don’t get on his bad side.”
“Alright, then,” Lucy laughs. “My niece plays tennis with his daughter.”
“I feel sorry for your niece,” Aaron sneers. “Ivie is the most athletic kid I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, don’t say that,” Lucy winces as they come to a stoplight. “Andie’s been working so hard.”
“Sorry,” Aaron tracks back. “It’s just in her blood I guess.”
“What does his wife do?” Lucy asks innocently, out of pure curiosity.
“Wife? No, Tim’s not married,” Aaron corrects. “And definitely don’t bring that up in front of him. He punched a wall, once.”
“Jeez, thanks,” the Sergeant clicks her tongue. She’s glad Tim turned down their ride together.
Suddenly, dispatch begins to signal her on the radio regarding a possible 211 just a street over from her and Aaron.
She tells them, “7-Adam-100, show us responding,” at the same time that Tim’s voice rings over the radio with, “7-L-19, attach.”
“This is going to be fun,” Lucy scoffs quietly as she pushes down on the gas pedal while Aaron turns the siren on.
And she’s incredibly mistaken. Tim has arrived at the scene just before Lucy and Aaron; he’s already talking to a young man. Immediately, Lucy notices that representatives from local media outlets are closing in, practically rioting over each other to get clear shots of the nearby liquor store.
“Hey, they can’t be here,” Lucy points out, interrupting Tim’s conversation with who seems to be a worker at the store.
“The media's allowed to be at crime scenes,” Tim reminds her with insolence.
“Right, but not before TID processes the scene,” she bites back without hesitance. God, she thinks to herself, is this how Mid-Wilshire treated their part of the city? So recklessly?
“It’s fine, they aren’t in the way,” Tim gruffs, clearly annoyed with her persistence.
“Doesn’t matter. They’re getting restless, and we don’t have enough officers here to handle two issues at one,” she tells him through gritted teeth.
“So get rid of them,” he rolls his eyes before turning back to the victim.
Lucy decides that Tim is a losing battle, so she takes matters into her own hands and yells out into the crowd until they get the message. They’re unhappy, but it only takes a minute for the media outlets to back away and allow the officers to fully assess the scene.
“Hey!” she yells angrily once TID arrives, leaving her and Tim alone in the front of the store. “You totally disregarded me today.”
“No, I didn’t,” Tim gruffs cooly, bringing heat to Lucy’s cheeks.
“Yes, you did. You can’t just enforce the law whenever you feel like it,” she chastises through gritted teeth.
“I'm senior officer,” he asserts, crossing his arms as if he’s protecting the icy heart behind them.
“We’re the same rank,” she reminds him. “Just because I’m new doesn’t mean you can just walk all over me like that.”
“Walk all over you?” Tim shakes his head with laughter as if he’s watching a stand-up comedy show. “I don’t have time for this, Sergeant.”
Lucy is fairly confident that he tacked the ‘Sergeant’ on to the end of the sentence to purely mock her, which only enrages her even further. “You are a real piece of work, do you know that?”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he just turns away from her and gets in his shop, driving away before she can get another word out. Lucy’s glad he does so; he wouldn’t have liked the next words she planned to spit out at him.
•───────•°•❀•°•───────•
“Aunt Lucy,” Andie calls out, flipping the kitchen light on. “I’m home!”
Lucy emerges from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes as she pulls up the pair of flannel pants sagging at her wait. “Hey, kiddo. How was your day?”
“Tiring,” Andie sighs as she throws her tennis bag onto the floor. “Yours?”
“Same here,” Lucy follows her niece, and they both collapse onto the couch. “I made quinoa bowls for us, whenever you’re hungry.”
“Maybe in a bit,” she beckons. “I need a minute to relax. My muscles are throbbing.”
“Tough practice?”
“The toughest,” Andie confirms. “I’m trying to keep up with Ivie, so that I have a real chance this weekend.”
“Honey,” Lucy reaches her arm out, placing it on the young girl’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t work yourself to the bone. Win or lose, it’s never worth an injury.”
“I’m good," Andie assures with a brief, yet unconvincing smile. “I won’t push myself too hard, I promise. So, what’s got you in the dumps? You came home much happier yesterday.”
“You are not going to believe this,” Lucy begins. She winces at the memories of the day replaying in her mind as she gears up to tell the story. “The other Sergeant I’m working with is Tim Bradford.”
“Bradford…” Andie furrows her brows. “Like… Ivie’s dad?”
“Yes!” Lucy exclaims, so loudly that Andie flinches back a little bit.
“No. Way!”
“I wish I was lying,” Lucy throws herself against the back cushion of the couch. “And he’s a real ass, too. Totally undermined me today.”
“So I guess we’re both being tormented by a Bradford, huh,” Andie points out through a giggle.
“I guess so,” Lucy groans. Though, torment seemed too light of a word to describe how she felt about Tim Bradford.