unstable Fangirl Alert

Lucy gasps as Tim wraps his hand around her arm and yanks her around a corner.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice raised from surprise.

“Did she tell you anything?” he demands.

Lucy’s brows raise as she exclaims, “Who?!”

“My rookie!”

Tim releases Lucy’s arm before he steps back.

“No, she hasn’t said anything. What’s going on?”

Shaking his head, Tim answers, “I don’t know. She’s off, though.”

Tim’s eyes lift, and Lucy turns to follow his line of sight. You have your bag on one shoulder, and Tim’s on the other, talking to a fellow rookie as you walk toward the shops.

“She seems fine,” Lucy says.

Tim doesn’t reply, but he’s not convinced. He knows you better than Lucy does and he can tell that something is wrong. You’re tense; your shoulders are pulled toward your ears like you’re ready to either fight or flee. That isn’t your usual state, unlike Nolan’s new rookie, who has fought and fled while on patrol. Usually, you are the calm and prepared one, ready for anything. You’re distracted today, even if no one else sees it.

“Sorry for grabbing you,” Tim tells Lucy.

“No worries,” she replies. “You’re worried about your rookie, I get it. Although, I never got worried about by TO Bradford.”

Tim returns his eyes to her face to glare at her. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I was trying to before hashtag grumpy cop assaulted me.”

“Keep your voice down,” Tim hisses. “I apologized.”

“And I’ll never let you forget it.”

Lucy waves over her shoulder as she walks away. Tim thinks about you while he walks to the shop. You were wringing your fingers together when he first saw you this morning, and he did not miss your nearly invisible flinch when he first spoke to you. Whatever it is you’re bottling up inside has the potential to turn explosive, and Tim doesn’t want the blowout to impact himself or you. So, despite his usual approach and reputation for being a hard, unforgiving TO, Tim climbs into the driver’s seat and prepares to talk to you.

He fails almost immediately, however. Instead of starting a conversation, he sits in the driver’s seat and stares straight ahead. You run your finger along a stitch in your uniform pants, as silent as him.

“What’s going on?” he asks as the other shop pulls forward in the garage.

“Dispatch alerted to an active alarm on Wilshire,” you answer. “The map also shows heavy congestion-”

“No,” Tim interrupts. “What’s wrong? You’re off, and we’re not going out until I know you’re stable enough to do this job.”

You shift in the passenger seat, looking at the dashboard rather than your TO. “Nothing,” you lie.

“Not gonna cut it,” he replies. “Not today, not any day you put on that uniform.”

“Sir,” you begin.

He shakes his head, and you immediately silence.

“You know what happens when cops bottle up their emotions?” he asks.

“They explode,” you answer softly. “Almost always in the wrong place and on the wrong people.”

“Right. But it also slows their reaction times, clouds their judgement. If I got shot right now, boot, would you be able to save my life and catch the shooter?”

“Yes.”

Tim scoffs. Yet, he doesn’t argue. He believes you. Despite your distracted state and the clear signs that something is bothering you, you’re a good cop.

“Look, you need to talk to someone, get some of that weight off yourself,” Tim explains. “If not me, there’s a dozen certified therapists the department will pay for.”

“I don’t need a shrink,” you argue. “I’m fine.”

Tim turns in his seat, resting his left forearm on the steering wheel as he looks at you. You sigh, aware that Tim will keep you from patrolling until he knows you are okay.

“I’m just… My parents came over last night,” you explain. “It didn’t end well.”

His posture relaxes slightly, but Tim doesn’t respond or start acting like a cop again. He stays open toward you, inviting you to keep talking. On your first day at the LAPD, you never would have imagined you’d be having a heart-to-heart with Tim ‘break their spirits’ Bradford. You’ve mentioned your parents maybe twice in the time you’ve been a rookie, and every time, you could tell that Tim not only listened but that he understood.

“We were just supposed to have dinner and catch up,” you begin.

The Night Before

“Hey!” you greet, smiling as you open the door. “Come on in. It’s so good to see you both.”

“You too,” your mother replies, looking around your apartment.

“We could have met somewhere closer to home,” your father complains.

“This is my home,” you point out. Your brows pinch as you add, “And I had to work late, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t keeping you waiting.”

“Work late writing tickets?” your mother scoffs. “Sounds like a miserable existence.”

“That’s not all I do. I really like my job.”

“Why are we here?” your father asks. “I know we didn’t just drive to this hood to hear about how great your job is. What do you need? Money?”

Your eyes widen in shock. Neither of your parents has ever been overly supportive. Still, you didn’t anticipate your invitation to have dinner together would lead to this.

“Money wouldn’t be a problem if you’d simply done as I asked,” your mother sighs, opening the fridge. She frowns and closes the door, then shudders.

“I don’t need anything,” you say. “I just wanted to have dinner, catch up, be a family.”

“You moved out, you’re an adult,” your father argues. “We don’t have to keep up this appearance.”

“Appearance?” you repeat incredulously. “I’m your daughter, we are a family. You’re supposed to come over because you love me, not because I’m an obligation to make you look like a good family man at the country club!”

“We’ve never been country club people,” your mother interjects. “Maybe if we hadn’t had a child to pay for.”

“That’s all I am to you? A bill? Something you have to pay for and travel fifteen apparently excruciating miles to see?”

“Maybe if you’d moved to Brentwood and gotten a real job,” your father begins. He trails off, leaving the insinuation hanging.

“Okay,” you murmur, clenching your hands into fists to keep them from shaking. “You don’t like my job, that’s fine. Let’s just have dinner and talk about something else.”

“Like your family?” your mother suggests. “Oh, wait.”

You swallow harshly, fighting to keep yourself from lashing out at them. “You’re right. This was a bad idea; you should just go.”

“You made us drive over here for nothing?” your father asks, his voice rising.

“You didn’t even want to come,” you point out.

“And you wonder why we’re so disappointed,” your mother muses.

“You’re disappointed because nothing makes you happy,” you defend. “You are miserable people, and you try to push it onto everyone around you!”

“We’re only miserable because of you!” your father yells.

He stands from the barstool at your kitchen island, pointing at you as you step back from him.

“You are a disgrace to our name and yet you insist on wearing it on a meaningless badge! So desperate to feel wanted that you ran to a job that takes anyone, no matter how underqualified or worthless.”

You clench your jaw, swallowing the tears threatening to spill. “Get out.”

“We’ll see who’s miserable when you don’t have our pocketbook to fall back on,” your mother says, failing to hide her smirk.

“Go,” you demand.

“Oh, yes!” your father yells as he opens the door. “Pretend to have the authority you want. Whatever makes you feel seen, just remember that sooner or later everyone will see the walking disappointment hiding beneath your façade of self-confidence.”

You slam the door behind him, pressing your hand against your stomach as your emotions fight within you.

You shrug as you conclude your story. “They left. I stayed up most of the night wondering if anything they said was true.”

Tim lets your statement hang between you for a moment. “They don’t deserve you,” he says.

You shake your head. “Not how it works.”

“It is,” Tim assures you. “You deserve more. You need people who support you, who understand you and why you do what you do. What you love– who you love matters and settling for people who don’t care enough to see that is not good for you.”

“Not good for me as a cop,” you agree, nodding. “Because my personal life affects my job performance.”

“Your parents are miserable people,” Tim says, agreeing with your point from last night. “They are terrible people who don’t deserve to be around you or see everything that you accomplish in life.”

Finally, you look up at Tim. He says it like someone who has had to cut someone off as if he has kept people from seeing him at his best because of how they treated him at his worst. You have some idea of his past, but the fact that Tim has lived through something similar makes you faster to trust him.

“And if I don’t have anybody?”

Tim shifts into Drive before he answers, “You’ll always have your TO.”

“That was stupid,” Tim chides as you return to the shop.

“He was getting away,” you reply.

“And you could have seriously injured yourself by stopping him like that.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Not this time.”

You nod and accept Tim’s correction. His teaching style has changed since he learned of your strained relationship with your parents. He still pushes you daily, teaches you in a way that works for you, and lets you apply everything he says and demonstrates, but he shows you that he supports you. His praises are few and far between, but they matter, and you never forget what he says when the praise does come.

Nearly a month after falling out with your parents, your phone chimes with a new message. It’s from your dad, and you delete it without reading it. Over the next few days, you get messages, emails, voicemails, and even a physical letter from the people who consider you a disappointment and an obligation. You ignore all of them, and because of Tim’s advice and support, you find that you don’t even care.

“You look tired,” he says after roll call.

“My phone rang around midnight and woke me up,” you admit. “Took a while to go back to sleep, but I got a few more hours.”

“Who called?”

“My dad.”

Tim tips his head to the side, and you shrug.

“I didn’t answer. I should probably just block his number, since he can’t seem to take the hint.”

“He’s called before?” Tim asks.

“He and my mom have both been trying to reach me for about a week. I don’t know why; I delete everything without looking at it. Shredded the letter they mailed… I hope there wasn’t cash in it.”

“Doubtful,” Tim replies. “Keep your phone on today.”

“Why?”

“TO’s orders.”

You roll your eyes and ignore Tim’s displeased hum. He’s become more than a TO over the last few weeks: he’s someone who supports you and understands you. Finding a father figure in Tim Bradford was the last thing you expected to happen as a rookie. The closer you get to graduation, the more thankful you are for it and for him.

After your third call of the day – a robbery gone wrong – your phone rings. Your dad's name flashes onto the screen, and Tim snatches it from your hand and answers it.

“Sergeant Tim Bradford speaking,” he says. “Yeah, she can’t talk right now… Because she doesn’t want to…”

He turns away from you so you don’t hear him say, “Stop trying to mend this bridge just to burn it again, because we both know that’s what you’re going to do. You can contact her, but if I hear one word about you stepping out of line again, I will throw you in jail, is that clear?”

Returning your phone, Tim says, “He should stop calling.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur.

“You’re right. But someone needed to remind him that you’re not alone, and he can’t walk all over you.”

“Thank you.”

Tim nods, then remembers that you’re still on duty. “Get in the shop, boot.”

“Congratulations,” Tim says, passing you an unmarked envelope. “And with the highest score.”

“I owe you most of the credit,” you reply, smiling as you hold the letter to your chest. “I couldn’t have passed my exam without you, and everything you’ve done for me.”

“Yeah, you could have.”

“Ready?” Angela asks.

“For what?” you inquire.

“We’re taking you out to celebrate,” Tim replies. “Graduating from long sleeves is a big deal, and you deserve it.”

You step toward Tim, then hesitate. He seems to understand what you’re thinking. He sighs but raises his arms anyway. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as you thank him again. Tim grunts dramatically when you collide with him, but he pats your back, and you suddenly understand what it’s like to be loved and cared about. You’re worth something, and Tim Bradford took it upon himself to show you.

“Alright, let’s go,” Angela urges, smiling at you. “If you want to invite anyone, we made reservations with extra room.”

“Can I invite my boyfriend?” you ask.

Angela looks past you to Tim, whose jaw drops. She recovers quickly and tells you they’d love to meet him, but Tim is still caught on the revelation that you have a boyfriend.

Looking over your shoulder, you ask, “Are you coming?”

Tim murmurs, “Yeah, yeah,” as he tries to think of every man you’ve ever mentioned or had an encounter with while he was nearby. “You said boyfriend?” he asks. “That’s new.”

“New-ish,” you admit.

Tim holds the door for you and Lucy, laughing together as you enter the restaurant. Your boyfriend replies with a text that he’s stuck at work and a promise to celebrate with you the following weekend.

“What’s his name?” Lucy inquires.

“Fin,” you answer.

“You’ve never mentioned him before,” Tim says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“Yes, I have. When we watched Lord of the Rings, I told you that the scene where Gandalf releases Theoden from Saruman’s control is his favorite.”

“Tim Bradford watched Lord of the Rings?” Angela asks. “With you?”

Pressing your lips together, you look at Tim with an apologetic grimace. He waves at you, dismissing the attention. Your movie nights aren’t a new occurrence, but they were meant to stay between you. Tim has become your family, and the time you spend with him outside work is incredibly special and dear to you. What you won’t tell Lucy or Angela, or anyone else, is that Tim is the father you always wanted. A man who can show you that you matter and you’re loved, even if it’s hard for him to express.

Over the last few months, you’ve become incredibly close with Tim, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world. He smiles at you when Aaron arrives, bearing a congratulations bouquet and a gift card to your favorite store.

“Thank you,” you whisper across the table. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Tim.”

He nods, but as your celebration continues, Tim mentally plans the following morning to include running a background check on this Fin you claim to love.

Tim exits Wade’s office with a sigh. The fugitive he’s been tasked with finding seems to be an expert at hiding. Your first week riding alone is going well, and Tim didn’t anticipate missing you quite so much.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. He looks up, and she waves him over. “I figured out why you couldn’t find your future son-in-law.”

“Excuse me?” Tim asks.

“Your rookie’s boyfriend,” she amends. “You didn’t know his full name. Fin is short for Fingon; apparently his dad also likes Lord of the Rings.”

Tim hesitates, then walks to her desk. “What’d you find?”

“He seems great,” she replies, smiling. “And get this: James knows his dad. He did some construction work around the community center a while back and they became friends. The whole family… they’re good people, Tim.”

“You know this for sure?” Tim asks.

“Nyla invited them over to dinner last night, we talked to him-"

“What?!” Tim demands.

“Kidding. But if James can vouch for the dad, and your rookie – who has great character judgement – for the son, then I’d say, yeah, they’re good people.”

Tim taps his knuckles against Angela’s desk, then sighs again. “Thanks, Lopez.”

“No problem. I hope I get to meet him first, though. If you scare away her boyfriend, you can kiss those movie nights goodbye and I for one would love an invite.”

Tim ignores Angela’s smile as he rolls his eyes. Walking away, he thinks only of you. Pulling his radio from his belt, he asks dispatch for your location.

Your boyfriend Fin knocks on Tim's door two months after meeting Tim and nearly nine months after he began dating you. You’re at your apartment, getting ready for your date, and unaware of your boyfriend’s plan or current location.

“Fin,” Tim says as he opens the door. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Fin assures him. “I’m here to talk to you, if you have a few minutes.”

Tim narrows his eyes but nods and lets him in regardless. Angela was (unfortunately) correct about Fin and his family. They are good people, and his parents treat you better than your own ever did. But not as well as Tim, you once confided in Lucy.

“Can I get you a drink or anything?” Tim asks, closing the door.

“No, thank you. I won’t take up too much of your time. I… I’m pretty old fashioned.”

Tim nods, and Fin slides his hand into his pocket. After pulling out a small, square box, he rests it on his palm and shows it to Tim.

“I want to propose,” Fin explains. “But I want your blessing. You are one of the most important people in her life; you care about her, and I do too. So, I want to know that you are okay with this before I do anything.”

Tim is a man of few words, but he’s rendered speechless by Fin’s words and the ring box before him.

“You love her?” Tim asks after a moment.

“More than anything.”

“And you know that if anything happened to her-”

“I would answer to you,” Fin finishes, beginning to smile. “Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs, then shakes his head. “Let me see the ring, since you’re proposing.”

Fin steps forward, raising his arms to hug Tim before he reconsiders. He stops and offers his hand, which Tim shakes firmly.

“I assume you have a plan to make it memorable,” Tim says. “I’d warn against boats of any kind.”

“I do have a plan. Maybe you’d be willing to spare a minute to go over it with me?”

Tim nods, welcoming Fin to have a seat. As he begins speaking, he says your name, and Kojo runs from the hallway, looking around.

“She’s not here, Kojo,” Tim calls. “Maybe tomorrow.”

Fin raises his brows as he reaches forward to pet Kojo. “I’m in the market for a ring bearer,” he tells Tim.

“I feel like half of the LAPD is out there,” you murmur, smoothing your hands over your dress.

“There’s no more than a third,” Tim says.

You smile but continue fidgeting. Tim stands, walks to your side, and pulls your hands into his.

“Breathe,” he encourages. “It’s your wedding day. It’s about you and Fin, not what Lucy or Angela or Smitty think.”

“Smitty came?” you ask, finally loosening up. “That’s amazing.”

“We all care about you. We want to see you happy.”

You open your mouth to thank Tim but instead, you wrap your arms tightly around him. He chuckles, then returns the hug, his hold warm and safe.

“It’s almost time,” Lucy says, knocking as she looks inside the door. “You ready?”

You nod. Stepping back, you loop your arm through Tim’s elbow and smile at him.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you confess as you walk toward the venue.

“Neither would I,” he admits. “And you look beautiful, if I forgot to say it before.”

“You did,” you reply playfully. “But Kojo told me, so it’s okay.”

Standing at the end of the aisle, you watch Kojo trot alongside Lucy. Having your friends in your wedding party, being surrounded by the people who mean the most to you – the people you deserve – is perfect. You don’t even realize your parents are absent as Tim leads you down the flower-petal-covered aisle and toward your forever.

You smile at Fin as you gently remove your arm from Tim’s. He inhales sharply when you turn toward him to thank him once more.

“Don’t,” you warn softly.

He smiles, but you can see tears welling in his eyes.

“No, no, no,” you urge. “If you cry, I’m going to lose it and nobody wants to see that.”

“I’m proud of you,” Tim says. “Everything that you’ve done, everything you’ve become, and all that you’ll accomplish in the future… You’re amazing.” He brushes his thumb under his eye, then smiles. “I never thought I’d love a boot.”

Your surprised laugh is silenced by Tim’s shoulder as you wrap your arms around him. The off-duty police officers behind you break into an excited round of applause, and you can hear Angela and Lucy yelling above everyone else.

Stepping back, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Tim looks at Fin and levels his expression. “I know where you live,” he says before he turns and takes his place on the front row.

“Are you crying?” Wesley asks under his breath.

“No,” Tim answers. “We’re outside, there’s dust.”

“Just reign in the waterworks for the first dance,” James interjects from behind Wesley.

“Shut up,” Tim says over his shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Wade says, catching you between dances at the reception. He slips you an envelope and explains, “Special delivery from your Mid-Wilshire family.”

Before you can reply, Smitty calls, “But I also got you a fondue maker, so if you’re picking favorites or a name for any future kids..,” he trails off, gesturing to himself before he returns to the dance floor.

You turn to watch him as he does the electric slide to a song that does not fit the dance, then laugh and return your attention to Wade.

“A fondue maker will be pretty hard to beat,” you muse. “Thank you. I owe so much to you. Thank you for giving me a family, and a job I love.”

“You deserve it all and more,” Wade assures you, laying his hand on your shoulder. “But Tim is glaring at me, so I’m going to go.”

You turn, but Tim is smiling when you meet his eyes.

“Your parents didn’t show,” he says.

“I didn’t invite them,” you murmur. “I sent the announcement, but not an invitation. My real family is here; you’re here.”

“Tell me they at least sent a gift.”

“A $2,000 Visa card in an unsigned Hallmark card that said Congratulations over a wedding cake.”

“Smitty can beat that,” Tim scoffs.

“He did. Fondue maker,” you reply, nodding.

“We got a fondue maker?” Fin asks, returning from a dance battle with Aaron.

You wrap your arm around him but look at Tim as you say, “We got a lot more than that.”