Minimum Recovery Time

Lucy x Ona | overall story rating is 18+ [In progress, updates weekly.]

A year and a half on from how it all unravelled in Barcelona, Lucy Bronze joins a UEFA task force designed to protect player welfare. She’s prepared for meetings, negotiation, consensus-building. What she isn’t prepared for is her past walking back into the room, or how to move forward when healing a heart proves more complicated than any physical recovery could be.

Chapter 8: The Light of Day

Also available on AO3

Lucy's heart was racing. They were standing in the lift on floor seven, doors open, and Ona was right there.

Close enough that Lucy could see the rapid pulse at her throat, could feel the warmth between them in the narrow space.

Close enough to kiss.

The wine and the hours with Ona had combined to make Lucy warm and loose, made her brave enough to admit that she wanted this. Wanted it badly. That she had never stopped wanting it.

"Lucy," Ona said, voice small.

"Yeah?"

Ona's hand came up, hovering in the space between them, fingers trembling slightly. Her eyes traced over Lucy's face, both ignoring the open doors.

"What are we doing?" Ona whispered.

The question hung between them: everything about this moment, tonight, the past two years, all wrapped up in four small words.

"I don't know," Lucy admitted, voice just as quiet.

Ona swayed forward. Just slightly. Just enough.

Lucy's eyes dropped to Ona's lips without meaning to, then jerked back up. Ona was so close now. All Lucy could think about was closing that last impossible distance. The thought sent electricity through her entire body.

She could feel it. The inevitability of this moment. Two years of missing each other, of careful distance, of pretending they didn't still feel everything, dissolving in the nearly nonexistent space between them.

Lucy's eyes fluttered closed. She could feel Ona's breath against her lips, warm and quick.

The lift doors banged shut with a thud, having closed itself after having been ignored for too long. Both of them startled. Ona jerked back slightly.

The spell broke.

Lucy stared at Ona, who was staring at Lucy. Ona's pupils were blown wide.

"Um." Lucy started. "We should--" She wasn't even sure what she wanted to say. All she knew was that she desperately wanted to keep the connection between them going. She could admit to herself that she wanted Ona, and saw, with complete clarity, how this could be their chance to make things right.

"Yes," Ona said, voice not quite steady. She took a small step toward the lift panel, tapped her floor number again. Her cheeks were flushed, lips still parted. "Yes. We should talk about this. About what we are doing."

"Yes." Relief flooded through Lucy. Ona wasn't pulling away, she was saying let's do this right. They were on the same page. "Yes. That's good."

"Okay," Ona said, nodding and taking another small step back. "Okay. We can talk tomorrow."

The lift doors opened again.

Ona stepped out, then paused and turned back. She met Lucy's eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as they stared at one another, before she turned away again and walked towards her room.

Lucy placed a hand between the lift doors to keep it in place, and watched until Ona disappeared inside, then finally stepped back and let the lift door shut.

She leaned back against the lift wall as it climbed to her own floor. She felt flush with possibility, with the memory of how close they'd been.

They were going to talk. A broad smile bloomed across her face. That was good. They were going to do this right. Going slow, figuring things out properly, would give them the foundation they needed to move forward.

But for the first time in nearly two years, she felt sure they were moving forward, together, aligned. They wanted the same thing. Lucy could feel it. And when they worked together, when they were on the same team, anything was possible.

---

Back in her room, Lucy leaned against the closed door. Her whole body was buzzing, she felt almost giddy with it.

She pushed off the door, bouncing a little on her feet, and paced the six steps to the window. She looked out into the Berlin night, tapping out an absent rhythm with her fingertips on the glass, then turned again and paced back into the centre of the room. Too much energy, nowhere to put it. She was wired, vibrating with a joy that had been foreign to her for ages.

She flopped back on to her bed and stared at the ceiling.

She thought about Ona four floors below. Wondered if she was lying in bed too, staring at her own ceiling. Wondering the same things Lucy was wondering.

Lucy rolled onto her side, hugged a pillow to her chest.

That conversation at the restaurant had been… God, it had been like coming up for air after drowning. Like remembering how to breathe. The ease of talking to Ona, of laughing with her, of just being with someone she connected with that naturally...

Lucy had forgotten how good it felt. Or no, she'd tried to forget. Had tried to convince herself that she could live without it, that she was fine on her own.

But tonight had shattered that illusion for her.

She wasn't fine. She'd been pretending, getting through days without feeling them. Surviving on small sips of stale air when being with Ona let her finally inhale fully again. Pure oxygen. Vital, necessary.

Three hours with Ona and she had felt more real than at any point in the last twenty-odd months combined.

She was falling again. Or maybe she'd never stopped falling.

She drifted off that night replaying the almost-kiss.

Ona knew she needed sleep, but her mind was racing. With the memory of Lucy sitting across from her at that table, red-cheeked and smiling. With the memory of standing so close in the lift that she could see every detail of Lucy's eyes.

With the memory of almost kissing her.

God. They'd almost kissed.

Ona pressed her hands to her flushed face, let out a shaky breath. She could still feel the effects of the wine they'd had, but was trying to gather her thoughts.

What was she doing? What were they doing?

Nothing had changed, had it? All the reasons they'd broken up were still true. Ona was still in Barcelona, and Lucy was still in bloody London. Lucy's body still needed the easier schedule, but Ona still deserved to play for her dream club, to be close to her family, to have the career she'd always wanted.

But it was impossible to deny the pull between them.

Her phone buzzed. Ona grabbed it instantly, heart leaping.

But it was just Patri.

Patri: How's Berlin?

Ona stared at the message. It was nearly midnight but Patri always seemed to have a sixth sense for when Ona needed to talk.

Ona: Long day. Can't sleep.

The response came immediately:

Patri: Good long day or bad long day?

Ona's fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Ona: Good Ona: Really good Ona: I think

Patri: Uh oh

Despite everything, Ona smiled.

Ona: What's that supposed to mean?

Patri: You know what it means. How's Lucy?

Ona closed her eyes. Of course Patri would ask about Lucy. Patri had been there through all of it: the breakup, the aftermath, the months of Ona trying to pretend she was fine.

Ona: We might have had dinner and drinks tonight

Patri: Just the two of you?

Ona: Maybe

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally:

Patri: Ona.

Just her name. But Ona could hear the concern in it, the warning.

Ona: I know.

Patri: Do you though?

Ona didn't respond. Because the truth was, she didn't know. Didn't know what she was doing, didn't know how to protect herself when being with Lucy felt so right.

Patri: Be careful. Please. I don't want to see you hurt again.

Ona: I know. I am.

But even as she typed it, Ona wasn't sure it was true.

She set her phone down, stared at the ceiling. The wine buzz was fading, leaving her feeling unsure. In the restaurant, everything had felt so clear. So right.

Now, alone in the dark, the doubts were creeping in.

---

Ona woke up at 6:47 AM with her heart racing and her limbs twisted in sweaty sheets. She felt trapped. She didn't remember the specifics of her dreams, but they had left her feeling scared, unsettled. A rising sense of dread clung to her like a warning.

She stared at the ceiling of her hotel room, the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and felt panic expanding through her chest.

What had she done?

Last night came back in fragments: wine and laughter and Lucy's hazel eyes across the table. The way Ona had leaned in closer and closer, like she had no sense of self-preservation. God, what had she been thinking?

I've missed you. I've missed this. I've missed us.

She'd said that. Out loud. To Lucy.

The same Lucy who had left her. Who had chosen her career over their relationship, who had broken Ona's heart so thoroughly that some days she still couldn't breathe around it.

And last night, Ona had just... what? Opened herself right back up? Practically begged to be hurt again?

Lying in bed, she pressed her palms against her eyes. Then she got up, went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and looked at herself in the mirror.

She thought of herself a lifetime ago. Twenty-three years old when she had first started spending time with Lucy. Back then everything had felt full of possibility. Every conversation sparking with potential, every stolen moment the beginning of something that felt like it could be extraordinary. It had all seemed simple. Inevitable. Perfect.

Now, she felt young and stupid. Like she'd learned nothing from the first time Lucy had broken her heart. Like last night had shown her to be childish. Naïve.

What had she been thinking?

Nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing had changed since that April day, nearly two years ago, when Lucy had told her she was leaving, and that was it.

They'd broken up for real reasons. Good reasons.

And three hours of conversation in a hotel restaurant didn't change any of that.

Ona thought about last night. Thought about how good and natural it had felt. About Lucy's laugh, Lucy's smile, the way she'd looked at Ona in that lift. Like Ona was important. Like she wanted to be with her.

And God, Ona had wanted, too. Had wanted Lucy's kiss so badly she had ached with it.

But then what?

They'd kiss, and then what? Try long distance? Ona could see it starting well. Lucy would be focused, locked in. And maybe it would work for a time. But eventually the travel would be too much. It would become another thing wearing down Lucy's body, another demand on her already carefully managed schedule. The visits would get less frequent, the texts would slow down, and Ona would feel herself becoming an obligation instead of a priority. And then one day Lucy would tell her it was too much, again, and Ona would be right back at square one. Heartbroken and alone.

And Ona had been through that already. Had lived through Lucy making that decision to leave. In the months leading up to it she had felt herself becoming smaller and smaller with each passing week, while she waited to hear Lucy tell her it was over. And then that awful final conversation. She had spent months trying to convince herself she was fine afterwards when in reality she'd been completely destroyed.

She couldn't do that again. She wouldn't survive it.

No.

Last night had been a mistake. A beautiful, painful mistake. But Ona couldn't let it become a bigger and more painful mistake. She was awake now, sober now, and she knew better.

She had to protect herself.

Even if it hurt.

---

Lucy was already at a table when Ona came down for breakfast.

Ona saw her immediately, saw the way Lucy's face lit up when their eyes met, saw her start to smile.

And Ona felt something crack in her chest.

She made herself smile back. Made herself walk over. Made herself sit in the chair Lucy gestured at.

"Morning," Lucy said, and her voice was soft. It was the private voice she used to use when they were alone together, warm and intimate in a way that made Ona flinch, now.

"Morning," Ona said, face set, tone neutral.

Lucy's smile faltered slightly, and Ona saw a question flicker across her face. "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Ona, what--" Lucy paused, seemed to be searching Ona's face. "Are you all right?"

Ona didn't know what to say. "Yes." She finally replied. "Just tired." The silence that followed was tense.

"Ona--"

"I'm going to get breakfast," Ona interrupted, standing up. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I--" Lucy's expression was bewildered. "I already ate."

"Okay. I'll be back."

Ona walked to the buffet, took her time filling a plate she had no interest in eating. When she came back, Griedge and Tessa had arrived, already deep in conversation with Lucy about the day's agenda.

Good.

Ona sat down, participated when she needed to, but mostly kept her eyes on her plate. Moved food around with her fork. She could feel Lucy looking at her, but she didn't look back.

The conversation wound down, and as Griedge and Tessa left to grab their things for the meeting, Lucy addressed Ona quietly again, "Is everything okay?"

Ona looked up, found Lucy watching her intently, eyes filled with a care and concern that made Ona's throat tight.

"Yes. Just thinking about the meeting." Ona forced a smile.

Lucy's brow furrowed a little. "Ona, about last night--"

But Ona stood, speaking into Lucy's pause. She couldn't do this. "I'm going to head upstairs. I need to grab my notes."

"I can come with," Lucy said, standing too.

"Actually," Ona picked up the plate she'd barely touched. "I need to make a call first. I'll meet you there."

Lucy's expression shifted, hurt flashing across her face as the clear dismissal. "All right. Sure. I'll see you upstairs."

Ona walked away, feeling Lucy's eyes on her back the whole way. She didn't look back.

In the lift, alone, Ona leaned against the wall and tried to breathe.

---

Ona forced herself to focus during the morning session, but it was very difficult.

Lucy kept trying to catch her eye, and Ona kept not letting it happen. When they broke for the subcommittee session, Ona made sure she walked between Griedge and Tessa as they headed to the breakout room. Once inside, Ona took a seat to the side, next to Petra instead of across from Lucy like she had yesterday.

Lucy noticed. Of course she noticed.

"Ona, what's going on?" Lucy asked during a break, voice low. Almost pleading.

"Nothing," Ona said, not meeting her eyes. "I'm just focused."

"Ona--"

Ona turned to Petra before Lucy could finish. "Can we talk about the category sets in the framework? I have an idea for the wording."

She could feel Lucy's confusion, her hurt. By the afternoon, Lucy had gone quiet. She still responded when asked a direct question, but the light in her had dimmed. Ona hated it. Hated that she was the one who'd done that.

But better this than the alternative. Better a little hurt now than complete devastation later. Right?

They rejoined the full task force for a closing session, and then at four o'clock, Claire dismissed them.

"Excellent work, everyone. Safe travels."

People started gathering their things, checking flight details.

"Have I done something wrong?" Lucy asked, appearing beside her.

Ona's heart clenched. "No."

"Then what--"

Ona pulled out her phone, made a show of looking at something.

"I need to go," she said. Then, seeing Lucy about to ask another question, added quickly: "A friend in Berlin. They're picking me up. I need to leave now."

They stood there for a moment, everything from last night hanging between them. Ona could see Lucy working to say something, could see her trying to figure out what had changed.

"Ona--" Lucy started. And there was a pleading quality to her voice now.

Ona stared. Lucy looked small. Lost. Broken. Ona desperately wanted to reach out, to explain, to make it better.

But she didn't let herself. She couldn't. Because Ona knew how this ended. She'd lived through it once already. She didn't know how she could survive it again.

"I have to go," she said, abruptly. She needed this to be over or she'd burst into tears herself. "I don't want to keep them waiting."

She turned and walked away before Lucy could say anything else.

She didn't look back. If she looked back, she'd see Lucy's face, and if she saw that sad, lost expression on Lucy's face again, she might stay.

She had lied. She didn't have a friend picking her up. She collected her bag from the concierge and took a taxi alone, watching Berlin slide past the window.

This was the right thing to do. This was protecting herself.

So why did she feel like she'd just made a terrible mistake?

---

Lucy stared out the airplane window as London appeared below, grey and drizzly and fitting her mood perfectly.

What had happened?

Last night, Ona had looked at her like she wanted to hold Lucy close.

And this morning, she couldn't even meet Lucy's eyes.

Lucy had spent the entire day trying to figure out what she'd done wrong. Had she been too intense? Too honest? Had the almost-kiss scared Ona off?

Or maybe--and this thought made Lucy's stomach turn--maybe Ona had woken up and remembered she didn't actually want Lucy any more. That whatever she'd felt last night was just wine and nostalgia and nothing more. Maybe in the clear light of day, she'd remembered that Lucy wasn't what she wanted after all.

But last night, for a few hours, none of the barriers between them had seemed to matter. They'd just been Lucy and Ona, talking and laughing and remembering what it felt like to be close.

I've missed you. I've missed this. I've missed us.

Ona had said that. Lucy knew she had.

So what had changed?

She thought about Ona in the hotel restaurant, thought of the way she'd laughed, the way she'd said Barcelona wasn't home because of the city like she held the map to Lucy's heart. The way she'd looked at Lucy in the lift like Lucy was something precious.

Lucy had felt it so completely: that they were finally going to get it right. That time apart had shown them both that what they had together was worth fighting for.

Had Lucy imagined all of that?

No. She couldn't have. The way Ona had said I've missed us had been too raw, too real.

So something had changed between last night and this morning. Something had made Ona decide to pull away.

And Lucy didn't know what it was or how to fix it.

The plane touched down. Lucy filed out, then caught a taxi back to her empty flat, watching England's grey skies blur past the window.

Part 7 -> Part 8 -> Part 9 (coming soon)