Chapter Text
Lucy and her husband Mark, both laying awake in their bed, cuddled up together — Lucy’s head is on his chest while her hair is spread around. It’s 3:50
too early to get up, but they are used to wake up at this time to get ready and go to their base. Seeing if everyone wakes up. But now— she doesn’t need to do it anymore.
Bailey — one of her closest friends— goes there now. Whenever Lucy graduates, she takes it back over. Because she isn’t someone who can let go of something easily.
Trauma
Scars
Nightmares
Guns
Yelling
Still her daily thoughts— but she isn’t someone who goes to therapy, because once she starts talking. There is no way she can stop.
Mark, her husband. Who somehow has more nerves— not really nerves, just exited to hear from it later on— than Lucy herself. Is a bit more used to get up later, even though most of the time he woke up with Lucy to go help her.<
“You want me to drop you off at the station?” Mark asks, but he knows the answer because her face says it all— you know, the disappointed and the ‘what do you think’ look. “I have told you millions of times, that I wanted to keep personal and professional separated. Now I get it, everyone from your station knows it, but that is because they were at the wedding. These people— the ones I hopefully be friends with, don’t know anything about us, me or the army. Especially the army. I’m sorry”
“No, I get it. And I am sorry for asking again even though you have said it a lot.”
“It’s fine” “But I will leave because I will be late otherwise.”
Lucy goes to her car— a BMW 840 sports car— she loves it so much. But then she sees Mark looking at her.
And then realized that she needed to take her Datsun. — an old rusty car—
Mark yells “I thought you wanted to keep your personal live to yourself” And gives her a wink.
The gymnasium was loud. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, and the air smelled faintly of sweat, disinfectants, and coffee. Rookies shifted nervously, glancing at one another. Lucy Chen adjusted the straps on her backpack and kept her eyes forward, her posture perfectly straight. She didn’t need to look around; she already had it all figured out.
At the front of the room stood Watch Commander Wade Grey, clipboard in hand, a presence that made the room quiet instantly.
“Alright,” Grey barked, voice echoing against the walls. “Listen up. Academy is nothing like being a real cop. Do you think you’re prepared? Forget it. You’re not ready for the streets. If you survive here, you survive there. If you fail here, you fail out there.”
He scanned the room, his gaze sharp. “I’m calling names, I’ll tell you your TOs, you’ll go where I say. You’ll report directly to them. No dawdling. No excuses.
Lucy’s heart rate was steady. She wasn’t nervous. She had been trained to follow orders and move efficiently; this was just another drill, albeit with civilians.
Grey called names in rapid succession.
“Lucy Chen.”
Lucy stepped forward.
Grey didn’t flinch. “Tim Bradford. You’re under him.”
Lucy nodded. Bradford stood near the exit, clipboard in hand, expression unreadable. He didn’t smile, didn’t speak. He just stared. Lucy made a mental note to observe everything he did—every small tic, every shift of posture. Because that was all she did, she could do it all day every day. Even though she didn’t wanted. It is something that she does without even thinking about.
“Jackson West,” Grey continued. “Angela Lopez.”
“John Nolan,” he said. “Nyla Harper.”
“Dismissed.”
Just like that, Grey moved on to the next name. No orientation, no welcome speech. Nothing. The rookies scattered, some hurrying, some lingering, but Lucy stayed calm. She followed Bradford’s signal and fell into steps behind him as he led her out.
The academy isn’t real policing. Good. Lucy thought. Then I’ll play the game their way, quietly, and still be ready for the streets.
Bradford wasted no time. As soon as they reached the training floor, he barked orders, sharp and unforgiving.
he shouted. “Move!”
Lucy followed him to the shop, keeping her stance straight, eyes forward. She watched the other rookies fumble as Bradford barked at her.
Inside, she noticed: Bradford was harsh, precise, and expected absolute attention. He didn’t coddle, didn’t encourage, didn’t sugarcoat. He simply demanded performance. Lucy responded in kind, quiet, calculating every move, completing each drill efficiently.
Jackson, under Angela Lopez, was getting soft corrections and gentle encouragement. Angela’s voice was calm, supportive, but firm. She smiled at him often, but her corrections were precise, leaving no doubt who was in charge.
Lucy’s measured movements didn’t escape him. He thought this one is… different but said nothing. It was enough to file it away for later.
By the end of the first drill, Lucy was already mentally logging mistakes other rookies made, patterns, techniques, and small gaps she could exploit. She didn’t speak much—there was no need. She observed, executed, and survived.
The day passed in a blur of drills, basic defensive maneuvers, and scenario exercises. Lucy remained calm, focused, and silent. Bradford’s corrections were harsh, but she didn’t react emotionally. The other rookies flinched at every sharp word.
By the time the day ended, the rookies were exhausted, scrambling to their cars. Lucy packed up methodically, tucked her notes into her bag.
As she stepped outside, the sun setting over the station, she allowed herself a small exhale. One day down.
Bradford watched silently from the precinct, noting her composure, her precision, her quietness. She’s a puzzle, he thought. And I like puzzles.
Lucy was somehow tired.
Not only psychologically— also mentally
Something she didn’t understand. She’s someone who memorizes everything, like photographic memory, but with analyzing people. And keeping mental notes off everything, noting everything. Every move, every emotion, every word, every sentence, everything. But how she learned it and why she started it? Something she doesn’t want to talk about…
It’s still haunting her.
Every
Day
Of
Her
Life
She is not proud of it—to analyze everyone, but it’s an addiction. And you don’t easily forget an addiction.
Tim who just got home, and still thinking about Lucy’s behavior.
He thought she would be someone who wouldn’t take this job seriously.
But after today, he knows she takes it very seriously.
And that there is something behind this.
He thought she would be — yapping the whole time, laughing the whole time, wouldn’t concentrate — But everything from what he predicted.
It is very wrong.
She is someone who knows what she is doing, about how she handled everything today. On her first day?
He knows her moves.
Everything she does.
And he knows why.
War.
The rookies agreed on going to a bar.
A bar 2 miles from the station. Smart, it’s not on the other side of the city when there are good bars close by. And that they need to be at the station at 8 in the morning
Lucy went to get the first round of drinks.
In the academy she closed herself of from everyone.
Not getting close with anyone — making no friends, not talking to anyone, answer the teacher with the right answers—
But at the end, there were 2 people who got closer than anyone else. John and Jackson. Jackson is a best friend for her—Even though not like a best friend other people would think. Not telling secrets, childhood, relationships, your thoughts, when you’re in trouble—
It somehow felt good to talk to someone else than her husband, getting closer to someone else, who she could go to with everything— except for the facts about her life, what sounds weird—
She came back with the drinks. Looking around everywhere, too see someone suspicious, someone she knew.
She putted the drinks on their table, receiving smiles from her friends.
“Okay and what are we going to do?” “I was planning to do karaoke. You in for that? I know John isn’t” Jackson asks.
Lucy knew she shouldn’t.
She would spill another small secret.
She can sing.
“Okay, I’m in. But I’m not a singer of some kind. So, what song?”
“I have a feeling that you would like Heal by Tom Odell.”
Oh.
That song.
“Yeah, let’s do it” she smiled.
Jackson went to get them on the waiting list— There were 5 people before them— Sometimes, the voices were like angels. Sometimes it was so funny everyone was laughing.
But Lucy kept her face straight— Didn’t show a single emotion.
“Lucy and Jackson are next with… Heal by Tom Odell.”
Lucy started singing. Receiving some looks— shocked somehow.
And then she saw Tim, Angela and Nyla. Listening carefully, watching like it was a series that they loved and were intrigued by.
Take my mind and take my pain
Like an empty bottle takes the rain
And heal, heal, heal, heal
“Why did I agree in this song” Lucy thought
Jackson started singing. A beautiful voice— just not beautiful enough to get all the attention from Lucy away
And take my past and take my sins
Like an empty sail takes the wind
And heal, heal, heal, heal
They sang together. They were an angelic duo— perfectly together, everyone looking at them. Hitting perfect notes— perfect high notes
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
Take my heart and take my hand
Like an ocean takes the dirty sand
And heal, heal, heal, heal
Lucy started singing alone again.
Everyone was fascinated by her voice.
Angela watching with a big smile, proud— Just not for her, for Jackson. She saw it. And Tim, he had a little smile on his face, something you couldn’t see—She mostly saw it in his posture— And Nyla, she was watching like Angela, with a big smile.
And take my mind and take my pain
Like an empty bottle takes the rain
And heal, heal, heal, heal
Lucy took a high note. While Jackson sang further and took over.
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
And tell me some things last
When the song ended, they got applause and some cheers.
Even Tim was clapping. Now she could see that he was somewhat proud of her.
Angela still didn’t focus on her, mostly proud of Jackson.
And John, he was cheering the loudest, so loud—Lucy got a little smile, and Jackson having the biggest smile ever.
He gave Lucy a hug. What got her frozen in place, but after some seconds she gave in.
Hugging felt good. She hugged a lot before everything.
The army
The only person she hugged was Mark— But I also felt weird somehow.
But with Jackson— She felt somewhat safer, not at her safest but safer.
“Oh, Lucy and Jackson, who would have expected that you two could sing so good?” Angela said. “Oh yes, you two were the best” John said
Tim was smiling. No one saw it, even Lucy saw it in a flash. She wasn’t even sure that he smiled.
But her somewhat photographic memory, and her ability to read people saw it.
Jackson looked at his watch “It’s 22:49, I’m going to head home. Bye!”
Lucy decided to leave too, and so did everyone else leave in the span of 30 minutes
Lucy opened the front door. The house was empty.
No sign of Mark— Only a message that he was working a case— No sound except the faint hum of the fridge. Then, the vibrating in her pocket.
She pulled out her phone. The screen lit up:
UNKNOWN
Her chest tightened. She knew. She knew very well. Even though he promised he wouldn’t call anymore.
Her thumb hovered over the answer button, but she didn’t move. She stared at the phone, memories threatening to surface — flashes she had worked so hard to suppress.
Caleb.
Her mind went blank for a moment. Then she tucked the phone back into her pocket, the vibration now like a pulse against her thigh.
She didn’t move. She didn’t even breathe deeply. Her mind was running in slow motion, replaying the day’s patrol, the rhythm of Tim’s terse instructions, the streetlights reflecting off asphalt, the way she had felt in control— and yet always one misstep away from chaos.
Her fingers grazed the edge of the phone, and the memory of Caleb’s face hit her like a physical blow— The easy smile, the joking tone, the way he had leaned just a little too close during their meeting. She had told herself it was nothing. She had trusted him once. And then it had happened.
The vibration stopped. The screen went black, but the weight in her chest didn’t. Lucy walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, shaking slightly as she lifted it to her lips. She drank slowly, methodically, counting the seconds as if the act of drinking could reset her body, could erase the sudden adrenaline that had shot through her veins.
She thought about Mark. He was supposed to be home hours ago, and the empty apartment reminded her sharply that he couldn’t fix this. He had never even seen this part of her— not the scars, not the carefully controlled fury that bubbled just beneath the surface when someone violated her trust. She would never let him see it, and she would never let anyone else see it either.
Lucy set the glass down and moved to her desk. Her notebook sat there, open to the last page of her patrol notes. She flipped it over, then flipped again, until she reached a clean sheet. Carefully, almost ritualistically, she began to write: observations, timings, corrections from Tim, minor mistakes she’d noticed on the street. Anything tangible. Anything she could control.
She didn’t write his name. She didn’t write what happened. But the act of writing steadied her, like a tether pulling her back from the chaos that threatened to swallow her every time she thought of Caleb. She would process this later. She would think about it later. Right now, she had the streets to analyze, the reports to refine, and the rhythms of the city to learn.
The phone buzzed again.
UNKNOWN.
Lucy didn’t flinch this time. She stared at it— long and hard, before slipping it back into her pocket.
Not yet.
Not now.
She had survived patrol, she had survived Tim’s harsh scrutiny, and she would survive Caleb too.
For now, she wrote, planning, cataloging, and holding herself together — because she had to.
LUCY’S POV:
I just got an invite from a man I’ve met at a bar. But I didn’t know that that specific moment would’ve ruined me completely.
I accepted the invitation, and we agreed on going to a bar the next night—just so we could get to know each other.
I went home after he give me is cell.
When I was home, I just stared in front of me, when I laid in my bed.
It felt good to be asked out again after. I don’t know 2 years?
But I had some weird feeling about it. But what’s the worst that can happen?
The next night was amazing. He was such a sweet and cute guy. And at some point, it felt like I was too drunk— too drunk to let me think straight, to let me walk straight, to let me feel myself.
I felt dizzy and sleepy.
And then my legs gave out, letting me fall on him— Caleb